Impulses
by KingUnderTheHill123321
Summary: The Dragon Warrior, the Furious Five, and a vengeful young rhino combat their worst demons in a deadly game with the fiendish Ke-Pa. (UPDATE COMING SOON!)
1. A Wind

A cold night.

It was quite cold. So cold, in fact, that the formerly fearsome Rhino Guards outside the Jade Palace wheezed a little, their crystalline breaths leaving them in short, violent outbreaks. The snow floated gently downwards, enveloping the Valley in a pleasant white blanket. The night air's frigidity knew no bounds; already Zeng had left for water, a mere 2 seconds after bringing back an extra pail. The bird flapped and quacked down the steps, the rubble and stonework coming lose beneath his scurrying feet.

_Damn bird, _he thought. _I bet he was a part of this_.

The guard really was not inclined to go and partake in the pastimes that his fellow men and women participated in; sickeningly one-sided games of Mah-Jong, or mundane bouts of laughter… No, he was quite content to stand right where he was, letting the white particles settle slowly on his horn, hardening it, desensitizing the young warrior to already harsh conditions. _A cursed blessing_, he assured himself. The snow was the least of his problems right now. Meanwhile, the men closest to the entrance to the Jade Palace were almost comically stoic; their rigid, implacable faces almost etched into their heads, with weapons that had scarcely been _removed_, much less _used_. Their uniforms frozen to stillness, their lower extremities surely losing sensation by now, their steely gaze never quite leaving the imaginary line in the horizon… all in fear of reprisal from the austere punishment which they had all deduced that would never come. No… they were here for a far grander reason… Loyalty? Respect? _Honor_?

The young guard scoffed, letting lose a light flurry of previously unmoved snow.

_Honor_. How ironic, considering the circumstances of their deployment. Trapped in a worthless assignment with a worthless cause, only to be aided by potentially the most worthless servant in China's history… well, at least somewhat worthless. The small bird fluttered erratically to his feet, his voice raspy and despondent.

"Water?" Zeng inquired, though with admittedly more curiosity rather than kindness.

"No thank you," the guard casually responded. He sniffed. He was not weak. He would need _nothing_. "You may go now."

Ever the coward, the avian hobbled off, evidently to fruitlessly offer water to more prideful guards, who would only give him the same answer… He looked at his toes, trying not to let the pile of snow on his cranium descend into his white nostrils. _Blue and freezing_, he thought to himself privately. _That can't be good_. He stole a glance at his surroundings again. The guards, in their shining veils of green and blue standing firm, Zeng evidently walking around, his commander, coughing and wheezing from the brutal temperature that surely took a toll on his already maladjusted body. _No,_ he told himself. _I couldn't ask him if I could leave_. The man was already choking on his own flesh, he might as well let him cough in peace. The snow settling on the guards was becoming heavy now, the night air was flying by with more force than any training session he had ever been in, and the muddy, wet ground, sordid as ever, creaked and moaned as the repeated footsteps of half-dead Rhino guards fell down.

And suddenly the forceful reality of the situation struck him, an underequipped, undertrained battalion of guards being sent, with more actual resistance from the dirt and frozen grass beneath their sturdy toes than the perpetrators in particular. He gasped once again, not minding the torrent of white coldness that pervaded his previously warm throat, but only because the night air had halted, the winds were no longer howling, the air was calming.. The frigid snow felt more tolerable now, the heavy winds lighter than usual; almost as if the Valley itself was sleeping… a feat in which he would have to be one of the Gods to achieve now. His eyelids drooped, retinas burning from underuse, hands nearly frozen to their sides, nose burning and uniform soaked with the melting of freshly fallen snow, the guard leaned, ever so slightly on the wall he was supposed to protect. Or at least… watch. He would rest for now. For now, he was no longer the stern protector of the Valley of Peace. For now, he was the small, sultry rhino that had once asked his mother to knit him a sweater to keep out the cold.

_Hehe,_ he chuckled. Perhaps if the Five and the Dragon Warrior hadn't slit her throat, then maybe he would have received that sweater after all.

**_A/N: Well that was ordinary until the end! First chapter in a predictably large work... don't want to spoil anything, but its rather fun to juxtapose heroes and villains... Eeep!_**


	2. The Mess

**3 MONTHS EARLIER...**

"PANDAAAAA!"

There it was. That piercing, diffusing, and utterly powerful scream that seemed to slice the air in front of it. Its master (so to speak) remained perched on a thin staff, the curves and fine contours of the seemingly still alive wood vibrating ever so slightly as the weight on top of it rocked back and forth from the sheer force of the voice; it no longer contained the hurried anger that it once had, rather, it was more disappointed and tired, as though it had been "let loose" so many times, the noise _itself _was beginning to grow tired of the Dragon Warrior. The Five masters that keenly observed the figure on top of the staff groaned internally. The figure on top of the staff smiled slightly, observing the strict discipline his students carried with them everywhere; the immaculate nature of their uniforms, the stoic stance they adopted when under pressure, even their faces made him proud: so focused, so eternally vigilant, the contours and crooks of their fur (or scales) bending in perfect harmony with their feelings. _They, at least, _he privately thought, _would make up for other… deficiencies. _And as usual, his eyes rapidly swerved to absorb the cacophonous noise that were the rumbling footsteps of what felt like a behemoth as _it _stumbled into the Training Hall.

"Sorry – Master – Shifu!" Po managed to breath out between gasps. "Was – sleeping!"

Shifu calmly passed an eye over him. Po's pants were tied on too tightly, highlighting the visible outline of his large midsection, the fur matted in clumps , obviously from the recent awakening of lying on them from. This did nothing to detract from his eager, wide-eyed idealism that poured from his jade eyes, flowing like an inexorable river. He was visibly shifting back and forth, as though the energy that it took for him to contain his hero worship was physically encapsulating him, the large round shoulders shivering due to something far more exasperating than wintry weather. His normally black and white complexion (if you could call it that) seemed a bit duller today, as if he had really indeed _just woken up_.

"At least you never disappoint…" Shifu quipped sarcastically, feeling that at the very least, he owed his protégé some sardonic comment so he would take this obviously infuriating tardiness more lightly. He was, after all, quite fond of the huge panda.

"I'm sure Master Po did not mean to oversleep… even if it does happen every other day."

Shifu revolved quickly, the peach wood scratching the floor from the sudden twist in direction. Tigress. Of course. She had always been rather – protective of him. Her orange pupils smiled as he relented and allowed a small curve to form his mouth.

"Yes, evidently…"

Po energetically strode forward, the floorboards creaking beneath his… impressive presence.

"So, whaddya got for me? I mean-" he quickly corrected himself, "What task do you have for me dude? I mean Master Shifu."

"What do you see here, Panda?" Shifu asked, although with perfect clarity on the obvious response.

Po meandered over to the edge of the Hall, taking in the sight before him. The wooden warriors lay hacked into pieces, the spikes embedded precariously in the flooring. The "fire holes" (as Po had affectionately dubbed them) were issuing large pouts of smoke from their previously perfect cylindrical opening. And to top it off, the swinging clubs stuck firmly to the top of the rapidly rusting metal arches, the chains hanging limply as the cool morning air slowly oscillated around the masters, rocking the chains back and forth, the _clinks _and _clanks _harmonizing in an astonishingly peaceful melody. The revolving ground pistons beneath the chains lay unmoving, clattering, and old.

"Well, my first guess would be –" Po began awkwardly. What was he to say? The Hall was obviously in such a state of ruin that it would be unwise to attempt to respond with anything. And then almost immediately an idea formed in his head.

"-Well it doesn't matter what I'm gonna say considering that you'll yell at me anyway. Am I right?"

Shifu chuckled in earnest. He had not expected this. There he was, all ready for a vicious, degenerate rant on the Panda's various insecurities and clumsiness before Po had beaten him to the surprise element.

"Yes. I think you know what to do regardless," the red panda replied, leaping down gracefully from his staff, tucking it behind him into a secure pouch as he hobbled away slowly, "because I think that overall… it is your fault. And-"

_If I stay, I might start laughing_.

"-I have some scrolls to attend to." _Coward_.

Po watched the old master he had long since admired and sought to emulate, as his soothingly green robe gently swayed above his small round feet. The Five followed suit, sans Tigress.

"Of course…" Po began, visibly more relaxed now. "You must have some crush on me or something, come on…"

Tigress walked slowly to him, trying to ignore his usual spout of bad witticisms. He needed to understand.

"It's not wise," she started, "coming late like that. This is the fifth time this week, and it hasn't even been 5 days!"

"Oh please don't tell me you're counting," he responded. A strict raise of an eyebrow immediately drained the humor out of his voice. "I guess I might be better served to-"

"Not guess, you _must_."

"Ok Ok, I'll come early from now on."

"Hmmm…"

He eyed her warily, both sickened and delighted to be treated like a mischievous child.

"I promise."

"Po."

"Seriously. Like, awesomely I will never betray your trust ever kinda serious."

"Right…" She slowly dragged her feet to the clubs. She had intended her sarcasm to be more spiteful, but she couldn't convince herself of such a prevarication.

Po brimmed with happiness. One of the many unique things about her. Sometimes even _she _would laugh. She smiled at him. She had really tried deep down to suppress it, but recently it seemed her body completely overrode her mind.

They worked diligently, repairing the Hall in record time. The _creaks _and _whistles _of their feet spread throughout the room, filling it with its meaninglessness. He had never bothered to ask why she was helping. He knew why. He just didn't want to admit it out loud… she would feel nervous and go away. After all, who was he to tell how _her _how much she cared? _Because I'm that clos-_

"Po. Tigress."

The masters swerved quickly on the balls of their feet. They glanced at the small insect that spoke carefully to them. The words were dulcet, focused… utterly purposeful. A rarity, considering the source. This tone was reserved. Quiet. Truthful.

"Someone wants to see the Dragon Warrior." Mantis quickly attempted to scurry away, only to be stopped by the booming voice of Tigress' somewhat curious tone, although it was far more protective than the former.

"About what?"

"Something about his friends being stuck under a pot."

_**A/N: Not bad eh? Well, I'm probably the worst judge of that but anyway, it might be a bit slow to start but it seems more flowing... like a real movie. Exposition has to be given proper respect right?**_

_**I enjoy Tigress as an older sister instead of the traditional romantic coupling that seems to be the norm. If, however, demand comes for romance between our favorite panda and tiger, then just say the word! **_

**_Even if I decide to go with the older sister thing, it will still be the main "relationship" of the fic... _**


	3. The Pig

The Hall of Heroes was scarcely used for anything other than tourism and meditation, so when a sickly pig walked inside presenting no visible signs of eagerness or wonder, Master Shifu was predictably confused. After all, the Hall was the strict property of the Jade Palace; trespassing could be punishable. _A rarity, considering the security of the _Palace, Shifu mused in his head, his furred eyebrows twitching painfully to make sense of the situation. Besides, the Hall, by itself, was in not state for visitors. The flat wooden roof groaned, its decrepit arches atrophying from the lack of maintenance, letting in the morning rays of light through the proliferation of cracks that had appeared on the surface of the rugged paneling. The stream of sun cascaded over the Hall, creating small ponds of light at the center of the green marble tiling, its symbol nearly opaque from dust. The robust crimson-gold pillars stood somewhat proudly above the desolation that was the floor, their golden contours lessened and shine dulled. The Hall was nowhere near collapse, but it was certainly not up to the monumentally high standards that its primary caretaker had held it to.

_Cursed panda. One day his indolence will get the best of him…_

Shifu did not have the time to complete his thought however, as once again the noise of heavy footsteps of feline and panda splashed into the Hall, startling the rest of the Five (who had quietly gathered behind him), but only earning a slight huff from the pig nearby and a mere exhausted sigh from Shifu himself.

Po pranced over to the Hall of Heroes, following Tigress. He quickly spotted the six motionless figures by the pool of water, its glittering surface containing distorted versions of the now seven figures (Tigress was quicker than he was, as usual) as well as the Dragon statue which had captivated the attention of nearly every viewer for so long. He gulped silently. He knew that whatever the reason, the tiny, ugly figure had not come for conversing about his imprisoned demon brethren.

_He's a pig. No… he was __**the **__pig. _

He fought a fleeting urge to laugh at his own repetitive joke. He would have liked to say that he was no longer afraid of _him_, that he had transcended fear and apprehension to replace them both with courage and confidence… but he could not convince himself. It was self-preservation after all, right? Cowardice and safety… two sides to a ridiculously convoluted coin. The pig's appearance did not look viscerally threatening, or even angry: a dirty brown cloak enveloping his petite body, only interrupted by what Po hoped to be only four limbs; a swelling set of toes and old, rotten fingers, their nails degenerating into ragged edges. Perhaps Po's reaction should have been disgusted or fearful, but it was indeed quite the opposite - rather, Po felt a perverse sense of curiosity, eager to learn why suddenly, his old foe had reemerged from his proverbial shadows. In any case, would he have the courage to speak to him? He walked forward. If anything, he would have six masters to guard him, albeit six masters whose previous success against the pig were less than admirable. He might as well surround himself with tofu. _Heh_. If he was able to enjoy tofu after this, he would thank the Gods relentlessly until his spine broke from the repeated prostrations.

"You're going to fall in."

Freezing on the spot, Po snapped back into observance and took note of Shifu's disappointed expression, before looking down and observing the pale blue, rippled reflection which was as beautiful as it was odious: a snowy face putridly stained with caution, a scrunched up fat nose, and a pair of eyes wide enough to fit two entire dumplings inside. That was perhaps what scared him the most.

"Hi Ke-Pa," he blurted out quickly, "What's up?"

The pig considered him for a moment, watching the panda's suppressed heavy breathing underscore his visible pallor. An impressive feat, considering the colors in play…

"I am quite well, Dragon Warrior," the pig started in a seemingly genuine impression of tenderness. "I hope," pausing to further enjoy the panda's delectable consternation, "you have been equally… _healthy_."

Po thought this was a bit cruel. He felt too much shame to look at the water again, afraid that what he would see would demoralize him further.

"Yes, I have been, in fact-" Po began, before Shifu cut him off.

"This is one of those rare moments," the red panda muttered with an air of superiority and aggression Po had scarcely ever detected in him before, "when I actually have questions instead of answers." The pig smiled.

"How are you alive?" Shifu spat, with pure loathing.

"Alive is such a broad definition…" Ke-Pa sardonically slurred.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"What _am I _doing here?"

"I've no time for your twisted mind games."

"Mind games…"

"Neither your infuriating repetition,"

"Imitation _is_ the _highest _form of flattery, they say…"

"Nor your vague, malicious nature."

"Of course…"

The pig stared at Shifu, smiling with such gentleness that Po swore he missed something… an unreadable expression manifested in Shifu's round features – almost… No… Po _still _did not understand.

"He broke me you know," the pig continued, this time with sincere gentleness. "A kind of breaking I have never felt before…" Po closed his eyes hard, unable to control his emotions.

"But of course, I recovered." Ke-Pa spoke, bending down to gracefully touch the water with the tip of his stubby, calloused thumb, twisting it inside to lazily fumble with the loose chippings of marble hidden by the water's blue depths.

"Details are of little importance, but –" _Scratch. _" – if I may try to explain –" _Scratch. _" – that – " **_Scratch. _**" – the present is more important." **_SCRATCH. _**Ke-Pa lifted his round finger upwards, leaving the cool blue expanse to trail water droplets, causing small ripples to be conjured in the middle of the pool before an even more massive ripple was formed from the _THUNK _of a marble chipping, evidently removed from the pig's disdainfully yellow nail.

"Oh why does it matter anyway? I just dropped by to greet you all! I'll take my leave now."

Po snapped back into reality. This was unexpected. Already? Surely there must be some hidden diabolical plan, some twisted motivation, some dramatic monologue that the pig wanted to make before his exit. He must have had something in mind…

_In mind._

"Wait, what – who – but – when – " came a shrill red panda's voice.

"No _Master Shifu,"_ the pig scorned, forcefully taking Shifu's hand into his, "I will hope to catch up to you later… After all, we have plenty of time _to catch up_." And with that one-sided handshake, the pig was off, trotting down the Hall.

"What are you scheming?" Tigress muttered, though with her strength, it might as well have been a scream.

"Scheming?" Ke-Pa playfully questioned, his suddenly booming voice dripping the same kind of irony and sarcasm Po had learned to detest from the moment of recognition, "I don't have to."

And with that, the pig was off, leaving the 7 masters locked in a deep stupor, a powerful trance that controlled their minds and manipulated their souls. Po stared more intently at the pig's retreating pair of hunched shoulders, awaiting the inevitable conversation that he knew _no one _would attempt to start.

**A/N: Feedback needed! There are a couple of questions I just realized I should ask...**

**-How is the chapter length working out for you guys? Too short? Too long?**

**-Character Development? The Five (sans Tigress) aren't given a lot of limelight usually, but its already tricky enough doing CD for three (soon to be four) main characters... But like I said last time, I'll do it if it becomes a "public" thing...**

**-Any other stuff?**

**All reviews that I read, I implement the changes if possible. (Big thanks to my first reviewer, who recommended Ti-Po! Consider it done.)**

**Finally, spread the word! (Only if you like it though... its counter-efficient to recommend "bad " fics...)**

**P.S: Don't get too used to the chapter-a-day thing... I guess I'm just in a really great streak right now, LOL.**


	4. A Talk

Nearly 300 miles away from the Jade Palace, a small fly buzzed haphazardly as it attempted to scan the beige floor beneath it for sources of food. The owners, as amazingly hygienic as they were, simply were not able to locate the source of the incessant din that emanated from seemingly thin air; their grey, serrated eyes completely oblivious to the presence of the misshapen dumpling bits that littered the floor, alluring the antics of the supposedly annoying insect. Other than that, the room was virtually inert; it seldom ever contained any inkling of life in its mud-walled interior, the shadow of the miniscule pest dashing across the surface of the uniformly auburn wood. The night breeze gushed through the frequently open window, chilling the spacious chamber, leaving an icy presence to linger softly, disseminating into pockets of cold, and _even more cold_. Although there were no closets, various scrolls and ornaments adorned the brown parapets, covering them with the sayings of Oogway, Kung Fu, and… this scroll seemed to be important, for it was perched above all the others… a single paper comprising of a great golden stamp, containing a bronze-colored, marble dragon: the symbol of honor, hope, and the Rhino Guard.

"-being up this late, no responsibility whatsoever…"

The wheezing voice initially approached the room more rapidly than the light footsteps that followed it, but it was obvious that the grey hulking figures that ambled into the scarcely-used compartment were interested in far more than flies. The taller of the two spoke smoothly, although he tried to suppress much more livid instincts.

"Duty calls, Mother… surely you know that at some point I will have to make sacrifices-"

"Not these types of sacrifices!" the shorter one snarled, "What could have possessed you to-"

"As I said… _duties_."

"Lies, Heng! You were out with Jin and Manchu again weren't you? Have I ever told you how ironic their names are?"

"I did _not _speak to them."

"So you _did _spend time with them? What is it today? Wine? Something stronger?"

"I do not drink Mother…"

"Yet you come here smelling like a rotten tofu cube. That stench is repugnant. If you do not have the common decency to even try to explain to your own-"

"MOTHER!"

Silence.

Heng turned away and stared at the miserable reflection present in the marble dragon. He was greeted by a pair of slumped shoulders overlooking a heavily armored torso; clad with green cloak bits and plates, ripped in various places, screening the rough grey hide beneath it. The face was expressionless yet tinged with regret, his body beaten, his mind broken… a thoroughly exhausting day gotten through only to receive more disappointment… the strength to force equanimity was rapidly enervating from him; blowing off like the cold wind that filled his rarely visited room.

He turned back and looked at her – his detestable excuse of a maternal figure, his eternal, permanent annoyance that would forever judge and scrutinize him, leaving nothing in her wake but shattered spirits and false hopes.

And yet, the cold, hard blue eyes stared right back at him, filling with a mixture of anger and sorrow he had learned to distrust; a ruse, a convoluted seduction that he knew was positioned only to ensnare the inept, quixotic fool.

A rush of sympathy overtook him, surprising the hazel pupils that resided deep into his skull. He towered above her, sighing as the shabby attire she sported every day coerced his eyes into observance. The sickeningly awful orange dress, the torn slippers, the laborious hands, the melancholy features, the caring-

_Caring? _

_No, _he shook his head abruptly. _I've fallen for this too many times before. I am no fool. _But his body acted of its own resolve, forcing a large hand towards his Mother's face, the massive fingers creating shadows underneath the visible bags under her retinas, before they gingerly made contact.

Her skin was wrinkled and shriveled. He felt the warmth of blood rush to his fingers as he felt even more foreign, although highly relatable emotions.

"It's just that – " he attempted, unable to halt himself, "I did not do any of those things."

The blue met the hazel, the older pair holding their mutual gaze for several seconds.

"Of course you did not…" she quietly stated, "Opium then?"

Heng did not even have the time to attempt a shocked expression, as the smaller rhino roughly removed his hand, reassumed the cold eye glare, and walked off… all within a fraction of a minute.

The tall figure lumbered back into the center of the space, looking fondly at the embodiments of memory that surrounded him from every direction. _Good memories…_ he thought. A young grey figure being awarded an axe as a trophy by an esteemed Guard member, a hilarious conversation with friends, the same figure running through a house, chased eagerly by a joyful female rhino…

He blinked. He knew what his eyes were trying to do to him, but he was steadfastly refusing to allow these emotions to surface. He was older now. He had responsibilities. He was a symbol of honor and strength… yet why did the pain come so naturally? Why did it have such an intimidating presence in his tired hovel of a mind? Why was it possible that every time anything from yesterday would arise, an inescapable feeling of melancholy seized him… nostalgia of the most abhorrent remembrances – a type of pain which he felt was worse than death, yet more pitiful.

**_My _**_memories. _That was perhaps the most agonizing conclusion of all.

He sat down idly in the middle of the floor, scattering dust and depositing bits of rock into the farthest corners of his room, long since abandoned since his commitments to the Guard. _It was fruitless_, he told himself. His mother would _never _consider what he told to be veracity. It was almost amusing in a sadistic sort of way… her remarkable proclivity to completely ignore anything that emerged from his chapped lips, desperate to argue, desperate to make her see his side... He had_ never_ been out drinking. He had not met Jin and Manchu. And now, opium? And yet, even though he had full understanding of her usual barrage of prolonged diatribes, he had always been confused by them. Affected by them.

_Hurt by them._

He desperately wanted to believe, even convince himself of a lie, of something that would let him know that beneath the heartless exterior and malignant presence, the cruel laughter and stern gaze… there existed some semblance of – love – even if it was rancid, even if it was tainted with anger, disappointment and shame for him.

_She has to have – she __**must.**_

Heng rocked back and forth, his head harmonizing in a sickeningly twisted sort of rest, unable to soothe even the rest of his body. His ears however, twitched brusquely as they detected a faint, although effervescent flapping. He turned his now suddenly weighty head to his right, glancing at the small, black, winged creature that floated around busily, settling on various scrolls before finally landing lazily on a painting of two figures. The shorter one held a childish expression, full of mischief. The taller one, slender and even beautiful, held the young child's hand keenly, the fingers coiling firmly on the small wrist.

_Almost as if he would run away_.

Heng smashed his fist into the painting, cracking the degenerate frame, crumpling the paper into pieces before withdrawing his now bleeding fingers, looking wrathfully at the squished black mass in the center of the picture, lying limply just above the child's head.

And he would continue to ram the bruised knuckles into the lifeless form, ignoring the present wails from his mother, the cries from neighbors and recently scared eavesdroppers… feeling a pure loathing; desperate to hurt the fly – although to his slight dismay, seeing nothing but the rapidly reddening, crumpled child.

_**A/N: Jin and Manchu mean gold and pure, respectively. Oh, and Heng means eternal!**_

**_Whew! Well, "The" Chapters will be focused on Po and the Five, while "A" chapters will focus on the other main storyline... a young rhino "yearning for justice". _**

**_Heng's backstory is somewhat influenced by the legendary Tony Soprano (from the Sopranos, duh)... not just for the angst, but also for the complexity... nothing like characters having believable conflicts._**

_**Other than that, remember to R/R and enjoy reading!**_

_**Update: **_

_**Well, I think I've set up enough of the story to start progressing into the actual "core" of the plot. (E.g the psych stuff, mystery, etc.) Don't worry, the format will be the same... it's just that now, I'm going to make chapters a bit more engrossing. (And therefore, slightly longer delays in chapters coming out... I'll get a new one out this Sunday) Not to mention, this series desperately needs some action... (as one anonymous person mentioned) after all, it is a movie about animals doing kung fu, right?**_

_**And finally, a massive thank you to all reviewers! (All four of them) It may seem small, but WOW do I love the comments! Enjoyed the awesome feedback. I even have followers now!**_

_**Ok, I'm sounding overly giddy again, but I needed to say it. You guys rock!**_


	5. The Feathers

"Well?"

It was a simple question really. In fact, it was an inquiry so direct, so blatantly easy to reply to, that Po momentarily failed to recall the harsh, probing tone, instead choosing to wholly focus on the mere plainness of the austere, somewhat uncouth demand. His eyes drifted lazily, admiring the exquisite detail of the action figurines (placed at strategic points specifically purposed to annoy the Five) on his peach-colored shelf. It was _his _room after all. In here, they would either have to learn to live with the prominent sycophant or grudgingly submit to his prolonged bouts of adulation. But the high praise and far-reaching compliments were no longer flowing… the entire space was suspended in a perpetual silence. Even his room was literally _vacant_ now; (having previously been emptied for the sole purpose of the masters converging for discussion) nothing remained on the white paper walls, neither did the brown frames support his favorite captured weapons. Memorabilia no longer littered the hard wood floors… even the bed was pushed back several feet (leaving thick drag marks buried deep into the surface of the base) to leave room for the masters to meet unofficially in the circular room (renovated, Po proudly held); Shifu balanced on his staff at the epicenter, while the Five and Po surveyed him noiselessly, their eyes focused on the equally resolute red panda, but their ears tuned to the seemingly lost Po, immobile in the naïve hope that he would respond to the already incensed questioner. Po was aware of this, but was far more concentrated on battling a surprisingly resistant feeling of self-loathing. How exactly could he descri –

_Guilt?_

"Po?"

"I heard you both times Shifu," Po answered smoothly. "I don't think anything's gonna happen."

If Po had ever known what the true meaning of awkwardness was, (considering his packed repertoire for self-deprecation) he would have learnt it again anyway. Even Zeng's annoyingly daily attempts to qualify himself for the Valley's Winter Festival Dances from over _300 feet _outside the Palace were audible over the immense hush that permeated the room after his assertion; the incongruous thud of webbed feet against gravel and stone somehow melodically coordinating with Shifu's flaring white whiskers.

"You think _nothing _will happen?" Shifu examined mockingly, the bristly, concerted eyebrows twitching in supreme annoyance. "Panda – "

"He said nothing would happen," Po quickly added.

"So there are no side-effects?"

"Nope."

"No repercussions?"

"Nah."

"No confusing claims?"

"Everything was pretty clear to me."

"Zero tone changes during our conversation?"

"Well tone is sorta different for – "

"Nothing to indicate a particular antipathy?"

"I'm not a fatty! I've slimmed down…"

"No ominous signs?"

"Hehe, ominous rhymes with – "

"No open-ended statements that were left so to indicate a future idea that would threaten to harm the citizens of the Valley of Peace?"

"… No?"

Po grinned clumsily, his face stupidly twisted into a half-smile, half-expression of unease. Shifu looked as if his first instinct was to throw Po out the window, then another expression overtook him as he realized that would be very comical, before more grim features settled as he evidently believed this to be a waste of time.

"Educate me, when was the last time you purchased a fully-functioning mind? My mistake, how about the ability to think at all? Were the market prices too steep for you?"

Po stuttered and fumbled instinctively with his tight pants, evidently both trying to fully comprehend the insult and think of an appropriate retort.

"Much too exorbitant for you then…"

Po surveyed Shifu beneath his old, rapidly scrunching eyebrows, the oval eyes tired with disappointment and longing.

"Listen to me judiciously," Shifu spoke, his voice discreet but tremendously effective at conveying the indisputable authority fueling the baritone chords. "Ke-Pa would never make such a journey to here without some plan… and how he survived his confrontation with Po… that is even more perplexing."

He twisted to Po.

"What remains of this plan is up to speculation. If anyone thinks he came for mere conversations – "

Po gradually looked away, sensing the burning stare of the Grandmaster on his shoulder.

"– that deduction would not be… prudent. Don't you all see what his plans are? His eccentric proclivities? He has some grander scheme in mind, despite his objection to the term. Something… I just can't quite put my finger on it."

The Five and Po gazed at Shifu attentively, expecting further clarification, but the brows were convulsing sensitively… they were only musing.

"When Ke-Pa was talking to you, he looked at you funny – " Mantis interrupted the silence, "almost as if you wanted to say something but you stopped… Po even saw it. I doubt he understood it though."

"Yeah," Po added, ignoring Mantis' sardonic remarks. "Something you wanted to – "

"Nothing." came the prompt, monotonous reply. "Be on your utmost guard. I will see if there is anything the local Guard can tell us about these… disturbing developments."

Po wanted to say something, anything, (even a compliment at Shifu's knack for unintentional alliteration) but no words fled his mouth as the hunched over master slid down from his staff, grasping it carefully as he sluggishly trudged out of the room. Viper and Tigress examined as Po and the rest of the Five ambled out of the narrow doorway, clearly to pursue the old master and interrogate him for the answers they both discerned would never arise.

Tigress slowly attempted to follow suit, before stopping at a slight hiss.

"Wait," Viper breathed, her tone innately friendly but genuinely purposeful. "I sorta wanted to talk about – "

"Just because we are both females," Tigress interrupted, "that does not entitle us to long conversations about our various romantic preferences. I mean by the Gods, could you be more of a walking cliché?" Tigress viewed her empirically; enthusiastic panic was transcribed on her face, masked by an objectivity that she knew Viper could rarely achieve, unless –

"I wanted to talk about the Guard."

Tigress narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"The… Guard?" she finally managed.

"Exactly," the serpent reiterated. "Ke-Pa is certainly a threat currently, but have you noticed the crime rate reports?"

Tigress pondered briefly, searching for an alternative to the obvious answer.

"Doubled," Viper supplied, "and it shows no rate of stopping. The Valley is slowly becoming a center of evil, I'm afraid. Everything! Just this morning, I heard a story from Monkey where he witnessed a villager being brutally – "

"Spare me the gruesome anecdotes," Tigress interjected.

"Well, the point is," Viper resumed, disappointed but still eager to finish speaking, "crime in the Valley has gone up and there seems to be some corruption in the Guard. Deals being made, coins being cut, if you know what I mean. Most of the time it's under control but sometimes… sometimes I fear the Valley is tearing itself apart. And I would have told this earlier to the others, but I feel we need to split our efforts. If we focus on Ke-Pa, we lose this. If we focus on this, we lose Ke-Pa. We have to divide ourselves so we can control both issues with ease."

"Very well," the feline sighed, brain buzzing with the overload of new information. She would have to tell Po.

_Po. Why did that come so readily?_

"And the probable perpetrator?"

"Shifu."

A swift, loud smack could be heard as an even louder clatter resonated nearly four feet away. The racket of falling action figurines reverberated throughout the room.

"Excuse me?" Tigress asked, fur prickled, eyes burning with malice, crouched down with one paw lifted, an almost searing red liquid ran down the index finger, staining the fur a bright crimson.

"Please," Viper tried, simultaneously scrubbing her mouth on her thin tail while struggling to recuperate from the blow at the other side of the room. "Listen to me carefully."

"I am far more tempted," Tigress indignantly snapped, "to ensure your unconsciousness."

"Just – " Viper started once more, "Think about this. How much training has Shifu had us do so far?"

_None at all, _Tigress cogitated, her emotions stubbornly refusing to relinquish their dogged clutch on her… and yet the rational logic was beginning to crush the histrionic caricature of sentimentality –

"How many times have we tried to help the Guard?"

_Zero._

"How many times has Shifu been out late at night, fur rumpled from bruises and smelling of wine?"

_Far too much to count._

"How is it that our safe deposit with all our reserve wealth continues to trickle down every day, with Po being blamed for purchasing food far beyond the limits of even _his _eating aptitudes?"

"Enough."

Viper lugubriously regarded the crestfallen master. The orange, fiery gaze was diminished and wallowing in self-doubt; the rigid posture was slumped forward, the paws oddly drenched in relaxation… not a relieving breather, but rather a crude acknowledgment, an act of submission – anomalous, considering the usually dominant originator.

_Her father. _

That must have miffed her somehow, despite the pair's mutual contentions against curious questioners that they were nothing more than master and student. She knew she should attempt to comfort, through words or gestures, but was interrupted by an abrupt shriek.

"Guys!" Po yelled, bounding into the room with vigor. "Hooligans! Down at the Village!"

_Heh, hooligans is a funny word,_ Po contemplated privately.

And somehow as the other two left expeditiously, the feline lumbered out of the paper frame, legs dragging in utter loss, the adrenaline that once could be summoned at will no longer even remotely existent.

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

**3 miles away…**

The Cavern was murky and intimidating, but the sole light at the midpoint of the expanse brimmed with prevailing radiance, the proprietor standing idly, waiting for the gathering that had been premeditated for what he supposed were eternities. Darkness shrouded the entire space, nothing but walls of blackness and a singular, focused, yellow brilliance.

_Thud. _

The pig coughed smartly, wheezing with disbelief and cautiously obscured fear. Whirling to his right, he noted the approaching cloaked, oval-shaped outline. The green cloak glided off the small form as the defined features of the Jade Palace Grandmaster came into view.

"Did you secure it?" Shifu quizzed, though with an air of presumption that his query accomplished the task faithfully.

"Yes, indeed. I have it here – " Ke-Pa began, reaching into his veiled satchel, before feeling a rough, furred hand force his stumpy fingers back upwards.

"Not now, you dim-witted fool," growled the old master. "I say when you start, understand?"

"Yes… of course, of course – "

"How long?"

"Before our mutual collaboration comes into effect?"

"That is a far more long-term plan. I mean, how long did it take you to acquire this?"

"A couple of days." the pig presented proudly, puffing out his small chest in pride, as if he was showing his father a trophy. "The Guard gave me some trouble, but I managed to evade them clandestinely – "

"If I wanted lengthy delineations of your own _supposed_ greatness_ – _" the meticulous emphasis almost mortifying, "I would have simply asked for _lies_."

The words bit into the pig's ears, crashing against the frail eardrums like stones.

"What about you, Shifu?" the pig daringly asked, the use of his name irritating the Grandmaster's cold face. "Everything goes as smoothly on your end of the barga – "

"Shut up," Shifu voiced severely, quelling the former Dragon with one deadly glare. "It's not within your realm of rights to ask me of my personal affairs. If I desire a consultation – " Shifu stepped closer to the winded old pig, "I will ask for one. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then, this is all you need to know. Commander Heng is indeed a major threat."

"To us?"

"No, to the rice farm just overlooking the Bamboo Forest. Of course_ us_ you moronic imbecile! He is one of the few _valiant_ members of the Guard – " again, the sarcasm virtually overflowing from the snarling throat, " –that has refused to have been paid off."

"The others?"

"Accept coin like a chieh* in heat. Amusing in some, pitiful in the rest…"

"Of course, the financial situation of theirs, which force them to accept the coin – "

"Are the direct by-products of my greatness, yes…"

"Well, yes."

Shifu glowered in incredulity.

"You disagree?"

"No."

"So take care of him."

"Heng? But I need more resources from you to adequately – "

"Very well. I will discuss this later. For now, give me _it_ now."

"All right," the pig tried again, reaching into his satchel.

_Thwack._

The pig's head burned in agony, the sullied muscles throbbing rhythmically.

"Crap!" Ke-Pa scorned, trying frantically to lull his stinging temples.

"Actually, I don't want it anymore," Shifu hummed, walking away leisurely.

The pig gulped, feeling another rush of blood as the sharp fingers connected with the base of his skull yet again.

"Never mind, I want it now."

The pig scrabbled with his satchel erratically, desperate to pull out the vial of white powder. Shifu snatched it, clawing the tender digits. The red panda gripped the pig securely, bringing him near enough so that the pig could feel the vicious, rumbling breaths. The old panda's face was lighted with a panicked joy; a happiness that he detained tightly, as if it was so smooth it might wrestle out of his firm grasp.

"I _own _you."

_Control. _

The pig let out a cry as Shifu plunged his small body into the hard, uneven rock surface. He watched the master traipse away in satisfaction. Ke-Pa began to laugh in earnest, reluctant tears streaming down his bruised cheeks.

_I made him proud. I actually made him proud of me_.

Even as he perceived the thud of footsteps and the forceful kicks against his ribs, the pig felt content with his accomplishments, his new-found enthusiasm not lessened from the rapidly reddening, tattered cloak laced around his midsection.

Joy.

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

He was out of breath again. He knew he should have eaten more before they left the Palace in such an urgency, which seemed to be much more often than usual now. Now, here he was, weary already and malnourished, trying to keep up with his much lighter comrades. Sprinting down the steps of the Palace, Po coughed sporadically, feeling the heavy rock and gravel practically moaning underneath the heavy pressure.

"Po, try to keep up!" Crane shouted violently, his wings soaring above effortlessly.

Po refocused himself and gaped astonishingly at the four equally speedy figures in front of him, the feline leading the charge in a prideful, magnificent stride. She was the second-tallest after all…

_And the first most beautiful. _

_Idiot, _Po reproached himself. Those… considerations were precarious enough as they were – but to let them slip out? He would rather die. Or rather, he_ would_ anyway considering the circumstances of that speech. His thoughts of course, did not prevent his near sudden collapse in the bottom of the stairs as a svelte green tail enfolded itself around his massive forearm, holding him back from the pure chaos that was occurring.

"Po, they're here!"

He did not get the chance to thank Viper before she essentially launched herself at the two wolves in front of her, coiling firmly around their weapons, forcing them together to clash audibly with each other's pates.

"All right, comically generic wolf guys! Prepare to feel the thu – "

_Smack. _

_Stupid, Stupid!_ Po reproved, awkwardly rubbing his now-painful jaw. How many times had Tigress told him to attack first, amazing catchphrases later?

He observed his surroundings for a fraction of a second. He ducked briefly as Crane thrashed a bandit towards him, the fine metal spikes of his weapon grazing Po's fur. He sidestepped into the dirt, propelling forward his fist, crashing into a nearby robber who was instantly unconscious from the force of the blow. Feeling inwardly pleased with himself, Po leaped into the air to clasp onto Monkey's lanky arms, swaying around the center of the battle to heave the golden-furred primate towards four thieves nearest the steps. How _had _they managed to come so close to the Palace? It was strangely… predictive. A dire foreboding seized hold of him, before he refocused himself to observe the flash of metal in front of him as he _just _managed to avoid its range of impact before hearing the thud of spikes against the floor. Thinking quickly, (laughing at the thought of Shifu objecting to this assertion) Po rammed his broad shoulder into the nearly indiscernible Mantis, driving him forward in a burst of speed. He watched in awe as the green blur weaved in and out of the anarchy, disabling wolves more quickly than Po could watch them tumble.

He spun around, twisting his forefoot into the nearest wolf's midriff, pushing him back towards Tigress, who was preoccupied with lobbing a cart at two wolves. A satisfying screech could be heard as the ferocious master consequently forced the now air-born wolf to follow the cart, his eyes glazed in astonishment at the distance between him and the ground increasing with every second. Tigress briskly gyrated, thrashing about she felt two heavy figures press her down.

Po practically sprinted to the three sprawling outlines as he swung his knee directly into the thick chest of the first wolf. Yelping painfully, the muscular warrior flew backwards, lone clumps of striped fur clenched firmly in his large hand.

"Get… OFF!"

The roar probably injured the two colossal attackers more than the two punches that landed square on their rigid jaws from two orange paws shortly thereafter. The assailants were flung into the heap of now stagnant bandits.

"Nice job," Po complimented.

"You were being chivalrous, hmmm?" Tigress asked.

"No… I was being a good friend."

"Friend?"

_Danger. Danger. Do something to divert the tension, now._

"No of course not…" Po stumbled, "I was just – "

"You are romantically attracted to me?"

Po gulped deeply, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks in pure shame. And she laughed.

"Don't worry about it Po, I'm just teasing – "

Watching glumly at the retreating tiger's back, Po smirked in relief and subtly allowed his smile drop into a slight, almost faint sulking expression.

_Don't worry about it._

"Where's Shifu?" Viper called out.

"Couldn't make it. Left almost immediately after Po and us questioned him," Monkey replied. "Said he had work to do."

Po looked around as he more keenly observed his surroundings. Motionless bandits lay down on the floor, weapons littering the steps, bits of gravel and chunks of dirt misplaced and strewn all over the one-sided confrontation. Po bent down gently to feel the edge of a sword, caressing the sharp edge before being nearly thrown off his feet from the force of an impossibly stout bunny.

"The Dragon Warrior and the Furious Five have saved us!" the bunny squealed in pure enjoyment.

_A little corny to say that_, Po ruminated, grinning broadly. He watched the Five overwhelmed with the massive crowds of white and brown, bunnies, pigs, and even rhinos surrounding them – the epicenter of heroics, the yet again victorious remnants of –

_Choking. _

Awkwardly, he turned around to witness four masters bending over a spluttering Crane. The bird was gasping for air, but nothing entered his narrow beak except the confused sounds of the masters above him, and nothing exited the protruding mouth except spurts of powdered grayness.

_The pig._

No, it could not be him. And yet, there he was… suddenly emerging from the horde of nervous onlookers to roughly shove aside Mantis and Monkey as he held Crane close to his small chest, inspecting the yellowed eyes, the foaming beak, the now flaring nostrils – all as the rest of the Five gawked at him, too stunned by the mere implausibility of _his_ assistance to actually attack him.

"Let Master Yuang inspect Master Crane!" one of the smallest bunnies squeaked, as Mantis tried to force off Ke-Pa from Crane's limp body.

Po managed to escape his personal crowd of fans as he stood near Monkey, face red with nervous apprehension.

_Master Yuang?_

And a final splutter and reddened spurt of air, Crane ceased to move.

The pig shook his body softly, encouraging him – almost… pleading him to move. The round, chubby features were grim for a moment, before finally turning to look at Tigress square in the face, the tangible conclusion all but carved into his face.

"No…" Viper started, fangs receding, head lowering… Po would have to talk to her later. She out of everyone else – _No. One problem at a time._ Right now, he needed to –

"YOU." Tigress barked, with a palpable repugnance. "You did this."

And the pig ignored the crowd's collective gasp, before speaking coolly, looking calmly back at the fiery gaze, confusion and genuine amusement etched into his honestly inquisitive features:

"No. I wanted to play a game."

Po did not notice the rotund fading shoulders this time, instead feeling the now rapidly whitening substance spilling down Crane's graying feathers swiftly engulfing his feet, the heat transferring serenely to his toes as the fur was soaked with the bleached liquid, restrained by the heavy flow; the fine hairs bent over flimsily: obedient, compliant, submissive…

Defeated.

_**A/N: **_

_***Chieh = concubine**_

_**Yay! Managed to finish it a bit earlier than promised... Anyway, this is what mostly the chapters will be like from now on - Of course, unless anyone objects to it... It takes a bit more effort on my part and is (what I think at least) more engrossing. Finally, the psych elements kick in! I know a lot is deliberately left open-ended, but keep in mind it's a big story... by the end, everything **__**will**__** be resolved...**_

_**-A Chapter a week sound good to everyone? More time? Less time?**_

_**\- Any recommendations whatsoever?**_

_**Well, you know what to do. Enjoy reading, R/R, Oh... and Kung Fu Panda: Legends of Awesomeness has a new episode coming out September 5th! *Squeals* Just found via the magic of wiki: Emperor's Rule. Should be a good one.**_

_**Peace!**_

_**Update**_

_**-The dampening cloak around Ke-Pa's midsection is blood, not urine! (LOL) Kudos to one reviewer for pointing out the ambiguous phrasing!**_

_**-Yeah, I know I'm changing story titles a lot, but it's a work in progress right?**_


	6. A Tent

The dust progressed fiercely into his nostrils, inflaming the sensitive walls, and eventually descending into the tender esophagus before irritating the tissue in the mature throat. The bruised skin covering it twitched in agony, the hide convulsing under the persistent stress. The nearby rhinos clashed noisily against each other, their wooden swords striking each other with an echoing din that distracted some of the new cadets; easily impressed with their first weapon usage, the clamor of weapon against wood captivating their attention long enough for their more experienced partners to lob them out of the chalk-drawn white circle enclosing the two struggling combatants.

"Enough! Enough! Stop with the – "

Heng endeavored to finish his statement before his arms were forced downwards by intrusively rough hands, bitterly feeling the ground suddenly revolve beneath him and slam into his protruding cheekbones.

"Excellent! Excellent!"

The thin (albeit energetic) fingers left his injured wrists and he felt the imposing presence of Commander Vachir advance hastily onto his resting figure.

"Heng, you might have a thing or two to learn – " out came the gruff, authoritative proclamations from the esteemed Commander, " –disregarding your general performance, I would say this was one of the worst beat-downs you suffered in quite a lot of time. In real combat you actually might have died…" Vachir snapped his head back slightly; the mere sight of the flexible clavicles and lips bending persuaded Heng's stomach to churn: both in actual hunger and mixed amusement and trepidation – was Vachir actually finding his mortality… _funny?_

_It wouldn't be the first time he undervalued our lives, _Heng furtively held.

Heng got to his feet and stole a glimpse at the taller rhino by his side, attempting a casual smile but instead achieving an awkward grimace that had the same therapeutic effect; the rhino beamed in amusement, the curve of the chapped lips slightly uplifting Heng.

"I promise I'll try better next time, and sir?" Heng called out at Vachir's quickly turning away body, "I wanted to talk to you about – "

He stopped midway, deliberating over his next words before staring in perpetual hypnosis at the crusted gash running across the Commander's face.

_Careful._

"Nothing sir," Heng finished. _Weak._

"Smart, Wimpo… not quite smart enough – as usual…" Vachir let out scathingly, actually turning and stepping smartly over the white circle without disturbing the intricacy in chalk detail. This circle was much more aesthetically complex than the others, earning Heng's bitter laughter.

"How much time did you spend on this?" he let out between half-laughs, half-coughs.

"Not more than two hours…" the rhino beside him mused, evidently trying to lie more to himself than to Heng.

"Sure…"

"Well, I – "

"Jin – "

" – guarantee I spent only 2 hours. Not 1 more."

Heng eyed Jin with great amusement, clasping his green vest and pulling him adjacent.

"Moron."

Heng twisted his wrist upwards while shifting his arm viciously sideways, flinging the mass clutched in the calloused fingers out of the white circle. The form collided with the ground, generating a resonant thud and scattering clouds of dust .

"What happened today? I never usually get to see you sprawled on the floor." Jin interrogated while getting up, gingerly rubbing his pointed nose, the cartilage surely deformed slightly from the sudden drop in… altitude.

"Mother." replied Heng, awkwardly grating the top of his sharp white horn in fake-sadness.

"Shame."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Jin had attempted several times to coerce Heng into elaborating further while they both strolled down the mud pathway that cut through the camp, but he was met with nothing more than sarcastic remarks and angered insults. Heng of course, felt this profoundly comical considering that his experiences were solely _his _problem, not to mention all the questions he had reluctantly fielded were both misguided and vague; deliberately so, it would seem.

They plodded noisily across the mud, feeling the rapidly decaying stonework collapse with every heavy step, while observing the red tents around them bustle with commotion and enormous, infectious noise.

"The _proud _warriors of the 33rd Regiment…" Jin specified as he barely avoided an overly anxious orderly from running straight into him.

"That idiot…" Heng whispered, gesturing towards the orderly, "…is probably swallowing gold right now –"

"Him and half the lot in this infested shithole," Jin ducked again, narrowly missing a drunken bunny lumbering forward with a pile of wood. "You _do _know why, don't you?"

"Not really," Heng swerved to his left, grazing the fine tip of a wobbling spear perched on the back of a giant elephant.

"Well, it's the coin we're getting right now, isn't it? That's the problem." Jin elevated his right arm up gently, materializing an archway for a passing pig muttering strangely to himself.

Heng failed to notice the approaching broad frame in front of him, consequently feeling his face being firmly smothered into a hard metal chestplate.

"Oi! Try seeing with your eyes instead of your arse!" the guard lumbered off, letting out a stream of profane expletives for good measure.

"What?" Heng blurted out, repositioning himself in front of Jin.

"500 Yuan per month. That will take care of you for some time, but take away imperial taxes, savings, and the occasional drunken uncle who needs some more coin and swears he's quit drinking this time around…" Jin trailed off, lost in fond memories.

"And you need to take bribes then." Heng finished.

"Right as Vachir with battle strategy, I'm afraid…"

"Have you ever taken any?"

A moment of painfully loud silence commenced, the clatter of weapons and thudding footsteps surrounding the two lanky troopers.

"HAVE YOU?" Heng asked again, piercingly enough to sound authoritative but not quite loud enough to lure attention.

"No… " Jin answered, looking evenly back into Heng's demanding ovals, "But I would – the second I needed to." Heng shut his eyes quickly, sighing with pent-up frustration. "And here's the thing Heng,"Jin treaded slightly forward, reeling in his cloak firmly to acclimate to the rapidly freezing weather, "You're a fool to think anything else."

"I –"

"Save it Heng. I've no time for your fluffy speeches," Jin snarled, the narrow chest puffing out in earnest anger. "Times have changed,"

"And so have you…" Heng snapped back.

"Yes," Jin narrowed his eyes roughly, "Yes I have."

Heng stood inaudibly for a moment, warily constructing the speech that could perchance save him from his current predicament.

"You don't have to worry so much," Jin indicated, eyebrows curling in mock-concern. "I know you don't have the same – "

"Lack of morals?"

"Pragmatism."

"Right…"

Heng proceeded to pace onward again, anticipating inwardly that Jin would take this as a tacit signal for the end of their risky conversation. He was relieved to make out the small, periodic thudding of narrow feet beside him. He would broach this subject later. First, he would have to go back to his Mother and attempt a fruitless effort at conversation again – pointless as it was, something in Jin's speech roused two ideas in him. The first for his turbulent familial life, and the next –

"You know the opium case we're working right now?" Heng asked, although with blatant assumption rather than genuine curiosity.

"No. Sorry, I was too busy grieving over Master Crane's unsightly demise, because, you know, I have a _lack of morals._" Jin bitingly replied back. Heng hated the irony shielding his statements, but tried to reason with him anyway.

"You know when it comes to – " Heng started.

"Yes."

"And because of – "

"Yeah."

"And then I had to – "

"Got it."

"So that's why I don't grieve. I just don't feel it's appropriate when – "

"I know it all."

Heng, satisfied that Jin understood his point, resumed the current subject at hand.

"So do you know about it?"

"Of course," Jin breathed out, "Been the biggest case for months. Probably years soon, at the rate things are going…"

"Yeah well, there's something odd I realized right about now – "

"Which is?"

"I'm getting to that. We've lost track of what, 920 catti's* of the stuff so far? Tell me… what's unique about that number?"

Jin stood motionless, raising his eyebrow in sheer frustration.

"I hate it when you do this," he finally managed.

"Do what?"

"Do that annoying thing when you know something but you ask me stupid –"

"It's a multiple of 10."

"And it's smaller than 921"

Jin sniggered inhospitably, the raspy tones practically tumbling over another. His riposte however was even more bitingly caustic:

"So, what, we're back to school now? Maybe with all your money you can try to educate us lower people of – "

"What fools would take the time to precisely weigh out, distribute, and collect 10 catti's* of opium? You've seen the druggies that come through here – do you think in that sorta state, they have the ability to be more precise than a drunken bartender?"

"So what? They might have stolen random amounts before. Maybe the fact that its 920 is just a coincidence now – "

"I've checked the logs. It's always 10. Time after time after – "

"I get it."

"Then maybe we have a chance to do something about it. Like – "

"Tell Vachir?"

Jin and Heng snickered together, the fleeting bystanders glowering hesitantly at the two tall figures convulsing in wholesome mirth.

"Too bad Manchu is away on training," Jin stated brazenly, between still intensifying laughs. "He would have laughed too… Now then… who's to tell the old bugger?"

Then suddenly, they both knew what they had to do.

"Yaogun, zhi, jiandao!*"

Their voices synchronized perfectly, their hands discharging forward simultaneously. Heng was dissatisfied to discover a bony fist pulverize his spread apart index and middle finger.

"You then," Jin smiled triumphantly.

The tall but thin rhino strode off, leaving a now-thoroughly exhausted Heng spinning away as well, marching into a distinctive red and green tent, virtually tearing the opening flap towards him.

_All your money._

He wasn't quite sure why that had perturbed him so greatly. Of course, he had heard it from nearly everyone – it was "apparent" that his dearth of pecuniary struggles proved his own supposed "snobbiness", but he had no idea on how to sway the others that into comprehending that he was genuine. That the coin his mother supplied him with did not entail an ego, did not fill him with personal pride… did not make him feel superior in any way.

But they had never listened.

They would never listen. How could they? He was merely an affluent show-off to most of them, an eternal lurker in his mother's overwhelmingly hefty shadow… she had accused him of shooting up hadn't she?

_Opium then?_

It all fit. He had double-checked the logs almost every day, the missing report always mentioned the stacks of powder leaving in stacks of 10; it seemed too premeditated, too cautiously planned, and far too deliberate to be merely an addict's drug-fueled frenzy or desperate claw for more oblivion; it was… _meticulous_. He had inspected the heavily-secured boxes himself. The lid was left unscathed, the yellow padding intact, save for a nearly impalpable hole sullying the side that served as the only sign that the purported intruders ever existed at all.

_A blemish._

Getting Vachir to cooperate would be another thing. How many times had he tried before to persuade the cynical war general? _Cooperate… _He might as easily decapitate himself. Manchu was fond of those repulsive things anyway was he not? Heng pictured his bulky middle heaving in panicked excitement, the tiny head with perhaps seven chins vibrating in nauseating excitement. _Jin mentioned he might be off training_. Then, inexplicably, he felt a wave of anger surge through him.

_Pragmatism. _

He snorted with liberating impunity. Impossible. Honor, ethics and principle were all applicable – regardless of their current situation. Just because _Jin _said so. _Stupid moron_, he thought. He smiled slightly as he imagined Vachir loudly berating Jin in front of everyone, Jin's knobby knees twisting underneath the stern gaze, the deceivingly frail chest trembling underneath the strain of the yelling. Heng moved his head upwards, glancing at the bleak space that was his tent. He needed to act quickly. He would only have 5 minutes before the daily briefing, and the last time he had arrived late Vachir had quickly made sure to leave him hospitalized for an entire week. He had thought many times of complaining, of speaking, of doing _anything _to let the Guard higher-ups know about the various "atrocities" Vachir had committed daily - the thought vanished as quickly as he found his quill and paper, tucking them beneath his robe as he crept out of the tent, witnessing the rush of eager rhinos as they scurried forward into a particularly large white tent not 300 feet away.

Sporting a newly energetic gait, Heng followed suit.

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_"__And crime reports have nearly tripled in filing since 2 months ago, a precedence which we all could learn from in earnest analysis –"_

Heng was not paying attention to the droning voice echoing from the epicenter of the large auditorium. Vachir would inevitably keep talking about crime rising in the Valley, which he found more vexing than worrisome. Besides, the opium issue took priority; Jin had even agreed with him. Heng readjusted his sitting position as he glanced downwards into the red seats below him. This tent was relatively new; he could easily deduce this from the new stamp of the Emperor's seal, its flashy colors burned into the tent's pointed top on the outside. The "theater" itself was segmented into four open seating arrangements. He had always preferred the topmost podium, eager to glance downwards at the action while avoiding Vachir's seemingly all-encompassing glare. He felt almost overwhelmed by the sheer size of the space; wondering inwardly whether it was all part of Vachir's omnipresent, grand scheme to methodically stomp the self-confidence out of the Guard.

_" – __and because of these new reports, a stern curfew will be introduced to better combat the crime rates. While this likely will do quite a number on the morale of the citizens – "_

"God, does he ever stop talking?" Jin asked beside him, uneasily bent sideways by the massive flab of fat teeming from the side of the elephant sitting next to him.

"Anytime would be nice" he continued, glancing menacingly at the clearly oblivious elephant. "Private Fatty over here – "

"That's not his name," Heng whispered back, without turning his head away, for fear of Vachir's ever alert senses spotting his perceptible apathy.

_" – __of course, you soldiers are the only thing that stands between us and the enemy. The enemy is everywhere, everything, anything for that – "_

"What's his name then?" Jin inquired.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Heng stated, admitting defeat, not seeing but somehow distinguishing the sudden appearance of the triumphant smirk that overtook Jin's scrawny mouth.

"Well?" Jin asked again, though this time the tone was serious and meditative. "Go on then."

"Not yet," Heng responded quickly.

_"__The rising reports of corruption in this Guard shall not be tolerated. I fear that if this occurrence manifests in the core of our elite combatants –"_

"What?" Jin questioned crossly.

"There's a specific time, when he stops talking and asks questions." Heng muttered between clenched teeth.

"Like now?"

_"__Furthermore due to recent funding cuts there will have to be a few dismissals here and there, but nothing that should seriously compromise –"_

"Like soon," Heng slurred back. "Just not – "

_"__And as far as the opium loss goes – "_

"Sir!"

The hall halted all activity, observable and indiscernible, immediately. The red seats beneath Heng were tilted towards him, the contiguous seats swerving to get an improved (and possibly ultimate) gaze at the irrational fool that would dare interrupt Commander Vachir. Heng almost felt the heavy scrutiny of Vachir himself , withering and scornful, the gray eyes barren and unrelentingly fuming. He would either receive abuse for his mistake… or he would receive abuse for his usefulness. At that juncture Heng wished someone would kick him, hard.

"What… the hell… ARE YOU DOING TRYING TO INTERRUPT ME GODDAMIT?"

Heng discernibly felt himself shudder in a gut reaction, viewing back fretfully at Jin before receiving an encouraging, albeit worryingly petrified nod. He gulped and tried his luck further.

"We are likely looking for a master criminal, one that has extreme motive for grand, nefarious plans that require careful – "

"WHAT?"

"About the opium issue," Heng attempted, although his voice was rapidly draining out into the frigid morning air. "It's always left in stacks of ten. Normal persons could not attempt this, much less addicts. And, adding the fact that the heist was carried out so fastidiously, so carefully… it would be wise to ask the 22nd Regiment for their reports on Major Organizational Crime. After all, that's their job, isn't – "

"BULLSHIT!"

Heng silenced himself immediately, feeling his throat seize in firm obedience.

Vachir's voice had boomed throughout the auditorium, alarming some of the younger recruits and only warning the older ones. His head was turned at a slightly upward angle, the palpable contempt reaching Heng, who was over 200 feet away. His steps were measured and deliberate, done forward only to better focus on the miniscule (from his perspective) warrior. The heavy snarl had informed nearly all of the Guard, warning them of the vicious tongue-lashing that was to come.

"So you're telling me that because you've got the money to do some fancy mathematics stuff that us, _lower men_ can't do…"

Heng felt a twinge of past resentment flare up once again.

"YOU WANT ME TO ASK SOMEONE ELSE FOR HELP?"

Perhaps it was merely the pang of emotion, or perhaps it was Jin's anxious signals to speak his mind. Either way:

"Sir, I think my logic is adequate so far…" Heng proclaimed shakily, quietly shifting his feet. "Perhaps it would be… best." He took a second to steady his uneven breathing, although inwardly he knew he had maybe only aggravated it. "And I know you don't believe me –"

"Agreed," came back the completely unexpected, surprisingly conversational reply.

"Sir?"

"I agree. I just wanted to see if you would stick to your convictions as much with a thorough, old-fashioned verbal beatdown. I find it is a fantastic test to weed out the weakest, most pitiful, sorry excuses of ideas you low-life idiots could ever come up with. This one of course, has passed the… test. Your plan is easy to follow through with too. Besides, the worst thing that could happen that if you're wrong is just your own execution, right?"

Heng knew the words were lies, but there was something characteristically unsettling in Vachir's trademark malicious smile that made it all the more worse.

"Go. Follow Private Heng's suspicions. Serve his head to me with some sauce if he wastes our time."

Perhaps it was the amazement at being finally listened to, or the abrupt screeching of nearly 34,000 red chairs orchestrating together, but Heng soon found himself alone with Vachir in the center, cleaning up various props he had somehow utilized in the meeting.

_I should really start paying attention to those things. _

He had really tried to climb down the shimmering ladder and join the others, but the impulsive recollection of an obstinately pesky memory defeated the logical side of his mind, goading him into utter stupidity.

"Sir, what's the story behind the scar?"

Vachir turned slowly, the gash almost… squirming abominably underneath the poorly-concealed, livid emotions. Satisfyingly though, his response met Heng's expectations, with the precipitously timeworn commander motioning towards the golden ladder.

"I am sure they are missing you."

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_***Catti = unit of Chinese weight measurement, roughly equal to 1.33 pounds.**_

_***Yaogun, zhi, jiandao! = rock, paper, scissors**_

_**A/N:**__** Wow, this one took long! And with the multiple storylines and subplots - excited for the future! Couple overall points: (since the story is getting more complex as time goes on)**_

_**-This is primarily a drama series. Action still has a large presence, but dialogue, setting and events create much of the suspense.**_

_**-I still don't know how dark/mature I want to make this. It's rated T for now, and that won't be changing for the near future.**_

_**-Writing Heng's chapters for me are somewhat more interesting. His "story" hasn't been established yet, so I'm free to make it as flawed and "human" as possible, compared to Po/Five, which is mostly set in stone... for now. *evil smirk***_

_**-The political/psych themes are pretty fun to mess around with too!**_

_**But like any of my work, if you object just say the word and it'll change!**_

_**Well, keep reading, R/R and may the Wuxi Finger Hold always be with you!**_


	7. The Game

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Even though Po's colossal paw was firmly enclosed around the cylindrical pipe, his fingers were lazy and stumbled frequently in the pathetic attempt to limit the torrent of water gushing outwards. The pipe had remained broken for ages now, the previously translucent blue stream now pouring with brown, murky liquid. His room was always like this.

"Po."

The gentle paw that clasped his right shoulder was shaking very slightly, a deceptive tremor so thoroughly camouflaged beneath anger and worry that it seemed almost non-existent. Po however, knew better. He _always _knew better.

"Where was he buried?" Po stated plainly, the voice monotonous and impartial. He thought whether he should turn around and face her, but decided against it as he felt the grip on his shoulder tighten slightly.

"By the Peach Tree," Tigress whispered, the breaths steady and resolute. "A master's wishes…"

"Hey Ti?"

Tigress lifted her paw off the revolving panda as his rounded features regarded her with deeply entrenched sorrow. The torrent of water was rumbling loudly, blocked off by Po's clumsy repair job, consisting of merely two sticks of wood. Chopsticks, above all. Tigress stifled a grin.

"Yes, Po?"

Po took several moments to deliberate the exact phrasing of his thoughts. The rest of the Five were occupied controlling the village's reaction to this. It was truly alone for both of them, with no unnecessary distractions in his already bare room. It was simple and clean, empty and cold, lifeless like –

"Are you, you know, sorta… you know… feeling something about this?" Po finally managed.

The orange gaze remained just as unreadable as ever.

"Feeling what, exactly?" Tigress questioned, although she admitted to herself that this statement was, at best, a stall for time. _He always knows._

"Guilt?"

"No."

The response had come so hastily, so perfectly enunciated and devoid of tangible pathos that Po stared in bewilderment for nearly an entire five seconds before replying.

"You're the leader."

"I am the Head, yes." The feline answered plainly.

"So you're like, in charge of us right?"

"I am indeed."

"So whatever happens to use sorta falls on you right?"

"Precisely."

"And what fell on you now?"

The floorboard moaned in agony as Po shifted around clumsily, unsure whether to prepare for combat or encircle her with his arms. Her expression however, remained unaffected, the words again rolling out flawlessly strong and specific.

"Nothing."

Po felt a surge of resentment so dominant he felt he might start bleeding automatically from his jaws, the mandibles clenched tight enough to inflict pain.

"What's wrong with you?" He stated quietly, unable to think properly with such an all-consuming anger. "You always do this… thinking everything doesn't matter and – "

"It doesn't."

Po steadied himself, forcing his breathing to even before speaking out gradually and coolly.

"What the hell do you mean it doesn't? I mean, like, with all the weird things to think of-"

Po stopped mid-sentence, discouraged by a lack of sufficient feedback in Tigress' face. He attempted a different approach:

"Would it have mattered if I went the same way?"

Tigress glared at him intensely, a virtually undetectable frown appearing for a fraction of a second.

"He overdosed."

Po only vaguely remembered Tigress' orange feet striding away as his ears viciously tuned into the sudden sound of thin wood colliding with the floor and the smooth splashing of water.

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It was morning again. It was morning yesterday as well but the Jade Palace Masters were so seldom outside that it might as well have been raining fire and stones without anyone perceiving even the slightest disturbance. The very air of the Training Hall seemed to be dense and hefty, clogging the atmosphere and dragging the spirit of anyone who entered. Six figures of varying sizes sat down next to the weapons rack, the painfully obvious silence causing anxious gulps and hasty breaths. The small eyes of Master Shifu blinked gently yet purposefully as he attempted to find words to match his thoughts.

"I just want to make it clear – this was not anyone's fault." the fatigued voice muttered.

Po found this very odd. _Of course it wasn't our fault. _There had been absolutely zero indication that Crane was suffering from any sort of – his features cringed when he thought of the exact term - _drug problems. _It was becoming increasingly common in the younger generation, but it had rarely reached the more staunch conservatives trained in the art of Kung Fu. A master so utterly possessed with perfection - mental, spiritual, and physical perfection – had essentially thrown away his entire life's ideology all for perhaps two hours of short euphoria. Even for Po's admittedly subpar analytic abilities, this seemed a bit far-fetched.

"I think we all know," Po spoke, attempting a humorous tone. "Crane wasn't exactly a type of guy who you know – " Po peeped fretfully at the five masters, taking care to avoid Viper's expression. She of course, had made that remarkably easy as her slender head was tilted downwards, the body coiled on the floor so that the normally inquisitive and encouraging eyes remained carefully hidden. Po wondered whether that gaze would ever exist again.

" – shoot up." The panda finally completed.

"It matters little the circumstances shrouding his death," Shifu replied, the voice gruff and forceful. "His sudden inclination towards hedonism is not the main point of concern currently, it is rather _why_."

Po arched his back forward as he struggled to comprehend what the red panda was saying.

"Ke-Pa's statement worries me even more," the old master continued, his features suddenly focused and determined. "He said he was playing a game. Thoughts?"

"He said he wanted to, Master," Tigress quickly answered, her composed manner and frustratingly objective demeanor incensing Po once again. "He never explicitly told he was."

"So what is this?" Shifu questioned, the plump face rotating around to glance at each of his students. Po noted how they passed very speedily over Viper, whose head had suddenly reemerged and was glaring viciously at Shifu. The burning gaze was almost poisonous.

_Crane once made a joke about Viper's tail being shaped like a needle. We laughed so much that day._

"Some kind of mind game?" Shifu continued.

"A game we are far too underprepared to go for." Tigress countered, the pupils coldly logical and severe. "He stopped to try to _help _him."

"Yes he did," Shifu spoke, the rigid face softening slightly, although more in befuddlement rather than warmth. "He's trying to – "

And unexpectedly the old master seemed more damaged than ever as he mutely confessed defeat. Po had never seen the Grandmaster ever lack a proper explanation. Yet it seemed this time that his whiskers were drooped and melancholy, the eyebrows scrunched together to form three identical lines on his small forehead.

"I don't know." Shifu finished. "I don't know."

"You told Po that once," Monkey added.

"We're done grieving," Mantis sounded out, the tiny insect visibly jerky with rage. "I am done sitting on my arse thinking about when and why. I _know _the pig's behind this."

"No you don't," Po retorted, the speech weary.

"YES I DO! LOOK AT THE CRAP THAT HE WAS BEHIND! LOOK AT ALL OF IT! JUST LOOK AT THE MASSIVE THREAT HE WAS TO THE VALLEY BEFORE! AND NOW HE COMES BACK WITH SOME FAKE NAME LIKE YUANG AND THINKS HE CAN SOMEHOW FOOL EVERYONE! BUT HE WON'T FOOL ME! HE WILL NEVER – "

"Quiet."

The serpent's expression was almost inaudible, yet the tone was so deathly, so unbearably terse and heavy that Mantis's puffed chest receded significantly as the insect hopped onto Monkey's curved shoulder in twitched, poorly hidden conceit.

"What are the facts?" Viper stated reticently.

_Tigress would be proud, _Po thought with mild annoyance. _What had Crane used for it… taciturn?_

"Viper," Monkey whispered, "We know how this might be… a bit… difficult for you – " A furry arm reached out mildly to the top of her green head before feeling a wisp of air as Viper snapped her entire body away.

"What are the facts?" she repeated clearly and bitterly.

"He was definitely no druggie," Po returned, feeling restored to shift his mind off of the overwhelming sense of grief threatening to wound him. "Must have something to do with all that opium stolen from the Guard's confiscated stockpile… Poisoned?"

"Guard, probable place of crime," Shifu indicated. Po felt visibly confused as he noted Viper's expression harden as Shifu's reply arose.

"Is there anything going on between you guys, or – " Po spoke, wagging his finger between the two masters. Viper's face was expending a hatred so personal Po knew as inherently unstable, while Shifu's looked almost baffled and out of place.

"Viper is just trying to make sense of the situation…" Tigress interrupted, the annoyingly objective voice now replaced with an manifestation of truthful interest, aimed at Shifu.

"Likely _perpetrator_?" Viper demanded, the voice heavy and the emphasis practically raised to a yell. Shifu seemed taken aback but effortlessly maintained his composure.

"Nothing as of readily apparent observation…" The cantankerous voice was smoother this time, almost forced to become… _more elegant_, Po noted.

"Go fetch me some more soup," Shifu pointed at Po, who had only just noted the empty wooden bowl lying behind the red panda.

"I will accompany the Dragon Warrior," Tigress added, teeming with eagerness.

Po attempted to march as quickly as possible through the brown doors before unfortunately distinguishing a particularly accusatory voice:

"So what, you're just going to ignore me all day?"

"No, no," Po answered as the briskly walking feline strode alongside him. "All life, maybe."

"You're not seeing this clearly, Po…" Tigress started, although Po was quick to cut her off.

"Shove it."

"Let me at least talk to you…"

They took a left down the hall, the floor creaking as they approached the archway to the kitchen. Po ducked his head carefully as he instinctively spotted the kettle closest to himself. As his keen muzzle articulated to him, the soup was still quite warm.

"Explain then," Po commanded, violently seizing the nearest soup pot but then proceeded to cradle it close to his chest as he realized the unstable nature of the liquid filling it.

"Please don't be angry with me," Tigress implored. "Please."

"Ok, fine, I won't."

"Good."

Po failed to notice that they were now in the middle of the hall, and consequently stopped mid-gait to watch Tigress hopefully.

"And?"

"And what?" Tigress requested.

"Apologize for making fun of a dead guy?"

"I have nothing to be ashamed of."

Even though the kettle was already sufficiently hot, Po thought it might have become even warmer with the state of his fingers.

"WHAT?"

"He died because of what he did, not because of something else."

"We just talked about this! It wasn't him! It was Ke-Pa and his stupid – "

"You are a fool to believe Ke-Pa did this."

Silence.

"Oh, and Po," Tigress dared, even though Po was close to exploding, arbitrating from his cross features.

"I would have reacted much differently. If you had gone the same way."

Po forced himself to not speak with Tigress anymore as they walked back glumly to the Training Hall. Shifu's hungry expression urged him to elongate his steps, as he quietly tilted the pot to allow yellowish liquid to fill the bowl on the floor. Shifu, (who was by now very well acclimated to Po's cooking finesse) took it gratefully and elevated it up in the air slowly before allowing his lips to approach the surface of the golden noodles.

"Masters!"

Po heard six simultaneous grumbles and gestures of annoyance (including the particularly angry thud of bowl against floor) as Zeng raced through the open doors and into the small room. The ruffled blue wings flapped in panicked distress as a small scroll rolled towards Shifu. The thin fingers grasped it almost instinctively, unfurling it with enough force to practically tear the scroll apart.

"Yuang elected for Council?"

Po tightened his face as he wondered internally what exactly Shifu was saying.

"City Council?" Mantis responded, his voice threatening to erupt again.

"It's all in there Master," Zeng breathed out, the expression immediately adopting a disgusted look. "He's convinced the people he's changed! Said he did what he had to because of - personal issues."

"Personal issues?" Shifu's inquiry was soft and low, but the subtle antagonism present was enough to make Po freeze in anxiety. He desperately hoped Zeng would receive this message as well.

"Yes Master," Zeng breathed out. "Childhood drama and all that. Absent parents. Rough side of the neighborhood. He won by a landslide! Beat out – "

Po predicted that Shifu would cut off Zeng immediately as the master stood up in blatant comprehension.

"Oh, he's clever…" Shifu spoke, an improbably warped leer appearing briefly. Both Tigress and Viper frowned worryingly. "Utilizing people's emotions in the mix. With such rampant social problems for the youth, especially right now – he's appealing to people. He's claiming to be the solution. He thinks people will look up to a reformed man - the only type of person who wasn't always fighting for good."

Shifu glanced at his students, the calculated retinas passing over them in quick succession. Po shifted around noisily as his backside started to ache from consistent pressure.

_Crane did say my arse was the size of – _

"Someone who empathizes with the scum of society," Shifu continued, the drawling voice booming with much more vehemence than ever before. "Who knows them… who listens to them…" The focused pair of eyes settling briefly again on Viper, "…who feels for them."

Po felt a bolt of air shoot past him as the green serpent coiled herself firmly around Shifu's throat, clutching it tightly enough for Po to hear the compression.

"Viper stop!"

"What are you doing?!"

"VIPER!"

"Viper have you gone mad – "

"Hey!"

The urgent voices did not seem to faze her though, as Po found himself struggling with the rest of the Four - his mind twitching in agony just at the thought of their newly decreased number – to tug Viper off.

"WHY?" she roared, her body tensing even more unwaveringly now that it had significant resistance. "HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT THIS? AT JUST BLENDING IN? AT JUST DIVERTING EVERYTHING TO SOMETHING ELSE! I'VE SEEN YOU EVERYDAY! YOU'VE CHANGED! YOU ALWAYS KEEP LEAVING, YOU NEVER COME BACK! YOU NEVER TRY TO EVEN DO ANYTHING AS THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU KEEP NOTICING THESE THINGS! SOMETIMES YOU – "

Po felt the agile green tail shudder slightly as it became limp. He turned his head to observe Shifu's slender index and middle finger pinched around Viper's neck.

"She's just angry," Shifu breathed out erratically, rubbing his now accessible throat. "She's undergone such immense tragedy, and is looking for someone to blame – "

"Classic coping mechanism," Monkey added. Po caught a glimpse of Monkey smiling at Shifu smartly, while the old Master glared harshly back, almost expectantly. The red panda seemed to assess the primate for a second, staring noiselessly at him. Po attempted to penetrate through his Master's unconscious psychological defenses, but still was unable to deduce anything from just his face. He thought briefly about asking him before shutting his mind down. _Today I focus on what's important. _Shifu rubbed his back gingerly.

"Anyway," Shifu continued, dismissing Viper's interference. "Ke-Pa is clearly manipulating someone. For him to become councilman is most… peculiar. Make no mistake… the game he is playing is undoubtedly deadly. He may try to undermine our reputation, he may try to underscore his own strength… please remember to trust only what you know." Po, although he felt the information was exceedingly generic, still nodded his head in appreciation. The pig had been elected councilman… and yet he was a villain, by all means. _One of the bad guys. _So why was the pig so determined to stay in their lives? He had undertaken a completely new alias now, and had instantly exploited his reputation to assume power… to do –

_I don't know._

It escaped Po's thinking. There was no motive behind the pig's forceful descent into their lives. There was no absolute meaning behind his double plays, his musings that he was playing a game, that he was a changed man…

"What now Shifu?" Po questioned, staring at Viper's motionless form. The Grandmaster's stare was forceful and commanding, but also contained a hint of remorse.

"Carry her back to her chambers."

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The moon lit the Palace Courtyard brightly as its effervescent glow radiated throughout the floor. The Palace itself remained as dark as ever, except for a golden primate that strode slowly out from its large wooden doors. His steps were thoughtful and decisive, and he hopped the steps two at a time, approaching the red panda in front of him with an eager zeal. Master Shifu himself was less pleased, as he harshly slapped away the furry hand that was stretched out in front of him.

"Not yet," Shifu angrily remarked, while Monkey rubbed his sore hand, his nose twitching in feigned betrayal.

"_Classic coping mechanism_?" Shifu bitterly questioned.

"Well uh," Monkey started, rotating on the balls of his feet, looking like an embarrassed toddler. "Best I could come up with."

"It wasn't enough," Shifu stated simply, the gaze burning into Monkey's eyes. The primate moved back slightly, still mesmerized by his sore hand. "You failed. Viper knows more about my nocturnal activities than anyone else. That dim-witted panda on the other hand – "

"I need some, please."

"No. Do you realize that your sole duty is to divert suspicion from me?"

Shifu felt himself well up as he once again noted Monkey's nervous glances and repeated offers of his hand. The Grandmaster again smacked it away and spoke much more tenaciously this time.

"The pig has successfully assimilated into the Council. With any luck from the opiates I supplied him with, he should be able to persuade the other members to pass Law 45."

"Law 45?"

"My own invention. It bans the opium trade, even for medical reasons."

Monkey stopped rubbing his hand and stared at Shifu more confusingly, shaking his head back and forth in stubborn denial.

"That would – "

"Would be counterproductive to my own operations, I know… but the pig is much more deft at the art of sabotage."

"Shifu," Monkey pleaded, "I cannot keep up with what you are saying. And please… I need it now."

Shifu regarded him for a moment, enjoying the dominance he so firmly had clasped in himself. To him, it was something far more addictive and persuasive than opium …

_Power._

"Your execution of tasks is becoming far too sloppy… when I mean distract her – I meant actually distract her. And in return for your dismal service…" Shifu flashed a white pouch underneath his robes. "That is the terms of our correspondence, is it not?"

"I haven't had any for nearly three days… my body needs it," Monkey asked again. "_I _need it." Shifu smiled in delight.

"Beg."

"Please."

A swift throw of a white, powdered bag was sent towards the primate, who clutched it quickly and began to crush it into multiple pieces.

"I hope you enjoy it…" Shifu slurred, watching the master pound the floor with passion. "Eatable versions were by far the pig's greatest invention – if he wasn't so submissive, he might have actually garnered some respect from me…"

Monkey did not even bother to hold his head upwards to thank the master before he was gone. Shifu had always considered brevity to be a highly valuable trait – this poured over into practically every encounter he had with the old Master. He felt a pitiable feeling of guilt well up briefly in his chest before feeling ecstasy overwhelm and cloud his senses. His eyes rolled over as he felt the familiar feeling of weightlessness envelop him. He smirked briefly, enjoying the onslaught of blurred vision and blank thoughts. The tears would come, but only afterwards.

_Only after this._

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"Stop playing with that Tigress."

Po had perhaps told her a thousand times within the past hour to relinquish her hold over the small needle, but she still stared at it in genuine curiosity.

"Sorry," she replied loudly over the din of the massive drums not 12 feet away from her. "It's just that…"

"Yeah?" Po pushed further.

"Nothing."

"Dragon Warrior." Po grimaced as Ke-Pa approached him.

Po huffed in anger as the pig grabbed hold of his arm, silently obliging him to follow into a more quiet area of the funeral. Crane's body itself was not shown to anyone, completely veiled by the massive black casket that was being carried by four bunnies to Po's left. On top of a podium, a eulogy (which Po had long since tuned out of) was being delivered by Commander Vachir. He glanced back nervously at Tigress, who assured him silently of his safety before returning to stare at the needle. The rest of the Jade Palace was seated to either side of her.

Po sighed as the pig's hold on him tightened. He, like the rest of the attendees, wore bright white dresses which fell over the knees and encased most of the body. Po felt his tug slightly to the corner as Ke-Pa seated him down on a small clay chair, with a Mah-Jong set laid out in front of them. The pig grasped his chair slowly as he tilted his body and beckoned the tired frame downwards.

"Do you play?"

"Why are you here?" Po asked, preferring to be as direct as possible before Vachir's booming statements caught his ear.

"And therefore, we feel that at the Jade Palace the proper maintenance is not being kept –"

Po felt a sense of apathy shroud him before glancing at Ke-Pa with apprehension.

"Why are you smiling?" he dared.

"Why do you think?"

"I don't like your stupid games."

"Mah-Jong," the pig grabbed a card and set it down gently. "is all about strategy."

"Is that so?" Po mused, smiling. "_Master Yuang._"

"Hehe…" Ke-Pa laughed, letting loose his own mischievous smirk. "I know, right? People are so easy to believe… so quick to believe in reformed change…"

"They _are _good people."

Ke-Pa slowly placed another card down.

"They _want _to be good people. Deep down they're all detestable, groveling beggars of people that – "

"You're garbage that has no soul," Po retorted.

"The pot calls the kettle – "

"I am _nothing _like you."

The pig seemed much more amused by this, glancing calmly at Po's furious gaze. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

"In precisely four minutes," Ke-Pa started, scratching his chin in mock-thought. "The game begins."

"What?"

"Oh by the Gods… still can't keep up can you… _Po_._"_

The table shook slightly.

"Do not _ever_," Po spoke, softly and threateningly, "call me that again."

"Why not?" the pig responded. "I am Master Yuang. And you are Po. Or are we? See we're both just liars… it's just that some of us are better liars than others. I can lie well to myself. Can you, panda?"

Po felt himself strain under the pressure.

"My life is not a lie."

"Isn't it?" the pig hissed. "_Dragon Warrior._"

Po felt himself sigh and look upwards, thinking heavily.

"Pay attention to the Commander, Dragon Warrior."

The panda grudgingly turned his head, to immediately become startled as he observed multiple angry villagers as they shouted abuse at the Jade Palace masters, who all anxiously attempted to verbally defend themselves. Only Tigress stood alone – still staring in perpetual captivation at the needle held between her two fingers.

"Therefore, it is of the highest importance that the Jade Palace no longer be trusted with significant matters… considering their very own being caught with illegal substances – " came Vachir's potent voice.

"WHAT?" Po heard Shifu's angry scream as the old Master pounced onto the podium. "Listen, I know you all have every reason to be upset… but we did not attempt this! Monkey's unfortunate addiction was not known to any of us! If we had known about it… maybe we would have tried to – "

Po felt his heart race more quickly than ever before as he struggled to believe what he was hearing. Monkey… _No. That was…_

The old master's tone was overpowered however by the massive rumble of the crowd as they adamantly refused to let Shifu finish.

"Just so soon after Law 45 was passed!"

"We're supposed to trust these people?"

"_They _are the defenders of the Valley?"

"They do the drugs themselves! They've probably stockpiled the things by now!"

"Monsters, all of them!"

"I hope they all die!"

"My children once looked up to these criminals!"

Po saw another face, far more happy and sporting a deranged, massive grin as Tigress laughed hysterically, unable to control herself, still clutching the needle between her fingers. The tears that were running down the side of her cheeks were genuine and pained, but the laughter was more powerful than ever, and was visibly hurting her as Po could see it. He wanted to tell her to stop, to tell her that this was not the proper place at a funeral, but found himself unable to do either.

"It begins." the pig whispered briefly before standing up. "It's easy you see… to break hope. To break models. To break those who we look up to. Without them… how will we act?"

Po gulped again, feeling his heart beat erratically out of control. He glanced again at the crowd, increasingly angry towards the Masters, _his friends_, firmly entrenched in the idea of hatred. He knew the answer to the pig's question, although he desperately wished he knew nothing of the sort.

"Good luck Po."

The pig strode off, wrapping his cloak firmly around him, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust. The panda picked two cards and turned around in his diminutive chair, staring at the convulsing form of Tigress, still laughing with bizarre energy. Po crushed the cards in his hand, trying desperately to block out everything around him – the details too much, the world collapsing too quickly, the implications too foreboding… _and that laughter. _

He clapped the white furred paws to his ears forcefully, trying desperately to forget everything he was still hearing.

_**A/N: A very late upload, I know, but I couldn't help adding to the plot! Don't worry, future chapters won't be this long a wait time. :)**_

_**Story's getting much more hazy isn't it? A lot of the political themes and emotional elements come directly from sorta common sense... like how would an actual animal society respond to a lot of these events? Also, fair warning - this fic contains **__**lotsa **__**subplots, so its in your best interest to pay careful attention to the story... remember, it's all flowing towards one ending, I promise you! I find the more complex the characters, the more awesome they are! Hope you guys think so too!**_

_**Anyways, R/R and hope you're enjoying the story!**_


	8. A Wrong

In truth, Heng had made several attempts to reaffirm Vachir's full cooperation in his often-mocked "plan", but was even more confused by Vachir's lack of usual aptitude for telling lies. The mediocre evasions that were thrusted Heng's way were shoddy and lazily constructed, lacking both quality of details and believability of pretext… it were almost as if he was trying to invigorate a response from the young cadet, who seemed neither understanding nor curious. Even though Heng knew this far ahead of time, possessed a massive repository of experience with Vachir, and overall was able to deduce most of the shadowy Commander's motives much before the screams and beatings would arrive, he _still _found it persistently disconcerting… to think that the "mighty" Commander Vachir was now displays signs of meekness and reclusion; emotions that were so foreign to the subject that for many brief moments in his life Heng struggled to keep himself from laughing. Unfortunately it seemed, those moments were becoming rather more numerous than before.

"Hasn't even spoken a word about it then?" Manchu inquired, hastily stretching out his flabby grey forearms to seize two dumplings laid out in front of him.

"Not from what I've gotten from him," Heng responded, keeping a wary eye on his own dumpling. He had far too much familiarity with Manchu's voracious appetite to act foolish enough to leave his food unguarded. Manchu seemed disappointed by this.

"Ah well," the rotund grey rhino declared, waving vigorously to catch the attention of a troublingly pensive Jin, the small shoulders and pair of eyes quickly strolling out of the Hall. Heng had been sure he heard Manchu perfectly, but decided to focus on the problem at hand first. "You can't do anything about it, can you Heng?"

Heng grimaced. The dining mess was perhaps the absolute worst place to try to sustain a conversation; disregarding the persistent clatter of silverware against dishes, the occasional drunken leper who was almost entertainingly tenacious in his flamboyant efforts to obtain a hot meal, and the anxious, thudding steps of the cooks – he still had to deal with the stray bits of conversation, laughter, screams, and whispers that all desperately tried to fit into his eardrum. The amount of noise was overbearing, strangling perhaps, and much too incontrollable to allow the discussion of such a delicate topic. And the smells… the aromas and scents were diffusive and highly suggestive of quality pastries, freshly roasted dumplings, pungent noodles, and even the occasional soup bucket.

"Yeah…" Heng admitted, idly twisting his fork between his stubby fingers, noting the brilliant reflection of the golden chandelier above them displaying uniformly on the surface of the middle prong. He sometimes wondered how it managed to stay firmly secured to the high roof above them; the chain was flimsy and weak, clearly aging from the overbearing weight and lack of maintenance.

"Place is going to the bureaucrats…" Manchu muttered, noting Heng's distaste at his fork, quickly observing the bright yellow fixture above them.

"Thinking about something?"

Heng shuddered a bit and grasped his shawl tightly, firmly enclosing himself. Jin had reappeared just out of the corner of his eye, coughing and wheezing, whitened hands firmly clasped around a small, indistinguishable packet.

"No."

"Well you should be," Manchu continued, noisily chomping down a salad, the opaque leaf still dancing around the tip of his large mouth. Heng scoffed slightly under his breath, but quickly layered a look of amusement and mock-disdain over to throw Manchu off. The large fellow, although not perceptive, was intuitively linked to the detection of deceit.

"Vachir's gone off the deep end in my opinion," the double-chinned face spoke casually. "I mean, the whole ignoring you think is fine but the opium rumors…"

Heng sneezed. It was unlikely for Vachir to be anywhere close to as hedonistic as the rumors portrayed him to be. To Heng, he would always remain a figure of eternal desolation and shadowy thoughts; an enigma always left unchecked and undiscovered deliberately, the charge being large and angry enough most of the time to dispel such rumors with finesse. Besides, judging from his personal accounts, Vachir was a poor man… his struggling financial situation, his despondent wife, the desperation – it all matched in Heng's head but he knew the Commander to abide by a code of honor so incredibly rigid he doubted whether he would every break it… regardless of how lousy his circumstances ascribed him to be.

"Hey," Heng started, turning slightly towards Manchu to observe his pudgy features more clearly. The now-anxious face oscillated rapidly, disconcerted by the worried tone. "You don't think those rumors…"

"Are true?" Manchu finished. "Yeah, I do."

"How?" Heng retorted. "The man's an island. He practically is Oogway with a broader back."

"His principles are outdated…"

"To us, maybe."

"To himself as well. Did you see him in the barracks today? Mumbling, grumbling about something in a voice so quiet the Gods themselves couldn't possibly keep track of what he was saying?"

Heng smiled slightly as he recalled the humor of that predicament.

"So I have," Heng admitted.

"Then, you should understand," Manchu spoke softly, bending his head down even lower to fixate on Heng's face with a pervasive seriousness. "Bad things are coming Heng… not just for V-man either. With the opium issues and Master Monkey's sudden descent into – "

"Lies," Heng spat. "I know the primate, he would never – "

"Do what?"

Heng coughed mildly. "You know what."

"The same what that everyone says Vachir is doing?"

Heng vaguely felt the sensation of heat as boiling steam clouded his nostrils, the pristine form of a giant bowl of soup being freshly placed in front of him. He could practically feel the cook's arms tense as the old man struggled to correctly adjust the undoubtedly heavy bucket.

"I don't listen to nonsense," Heng regarded, thanking the cook under his breath.

"Of course you don't..." Manchu replied, the tired eyes drifting lazily upwards. "You never would."

"He was a friend of my father's, I think." Heng responded, desperate to shift the conversation away.

"Master Monkey?"

"Master Monkey."

Heng swallowed a rather large portion of soup too quickly and began coughing in earnest.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Manchu began. "Your father I mean."

Heng felt the burning sensation cascade down his throat and into his belly. "No."

"All right."

Heng internally felt the confusion once again envelop him as he wondered why so many things were acting out of place. With Vachir's rumors, Jin's mysterious behavior…

_The packet._

It meant nothing, he assured himself. No matter what he saw, he was anxious to disbelieve. Perhaps it wasn't a packet at all, maybe it was something else… and promptly laughed as he realized how stupid he sounded, even to himself. Vachir however, was more interesting… why _had _he become so reclusive?

_I asked him something I shouldn't have._

Heng sneered as he observed his now suspiciously empty plate, tilting his head to see Manchu's slightly guilty but nevertheless accomplished expression.

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The resident of the room of the Elite Commander of the Guard of the Valley of Peace felt that his title had included a ridiculously absurd amount of prepositions so henceforth he had cunningly devised the much more verbally ergonomic "ECG" emblazoned in golden calligraphy that faithfully accumulated dust on the front of his tent. On usual days the tent would be abuzz with activity: flaps closing and opening in quick succession, anxious rhinos fumbling out of the tent with fervor and fear, and even the occasional bunny. Today however, an incredibly painful silence surrounded the tent, filling it with a chilly coldness only the "Supreme" resident of the room had once possessed. The inside however, was adorned properly and had the makings of a great Palace, although a remarkably remote and clichéd Palace however. The leather walls were punctured with vast and small frames of various awards, the top of the center support beam brimming with certificates and battle plans… and yet the one, single, elusive photo that was supposedly "important" was hastily stuffed into a corner of the brown wooden desk, the colors faded and dulled as the three figures inside the frame lied, smiling as though they were actually as happy as their wide grins made them out to be. The female was holding a cup of soup, the yellowish liquid churning inside.

Commander Vachir entered his tent with giant footsteps, the massive gait allowing him to travel several feet at a time.

With a flourish he sat down on the wooden desk inside. The aged nostrils were defined and flaring, the deep, breathy bursts of air that they sucked in being as cold and sharp as the man's lectures. Vachir had heard many things, but among opium he did not find to be a particularly worthy foe…

_How is that possible?_

Although he would never admit it, just to create such a blatantly incongruous rumor required a certain aspect of boldness which he wished the recruits had possessed; it entailed tenacity and dedication to the lie, again two traits which he had rather wished would have been put to better use. He never did care about his reputation, but something in the verbose chants of "Vachir is a druggie!" seemed to wake him from his usual apathetic slumber that he frequently occupied himself with. They still listened to him, still ate what he told them to, still stood shocked in fear as he mirthfully slammed a recruit down to the ground, but it was far from well-acted. The ears were lazy, the mouth chewed the food only in apathy rather than fear, and the surprise was very much fake.

_Opium._

That was a far grander problem than he had anticipated. _That moron Heng_, he blithely thought. He had always held the recruit to a certain aspect of incompetence, at a slightly more elevated level than the rest of his equally dim-witted colleagues. He would never trust him with anything if he could help it, but when he couldn't… just the thought made him grimace. He had angrily stormed into Accounting that day, and was gravely disappointed to find the young recruits' report as informative as concise; the amounts of opium taken from the storage vault was precisely taken in very specific quantities; the heist was carried out in a manner so professional, so utterly serious that he wondered again about their motives. True, the drugs would benefit the gangs in their control of the Valley... a simple supply-demand issue, a void where one could become an almost irreplaceable provider. But he still wondered where all that had gone - _Master Monkey took some the other day, some pig took some, and_…

It still didn't add up.

No, there were far too much stolen, even adjusting for Monkey's and the pig's. True, the primate's seized reservoir was large and vast, but it did not nearly come close to the huge figures Vachir's analyst claimed had gone missing. According to him, a far more malevolent yet intricate force was at work; a cunning criminal so engrossed in deception that he or she was almost impossible to find, much less arrest.

_Semantics, _Vachir scorned.

Of course, there still remained the problem of the last question that Heng had posed to him. The question by itself was not immediately threatening. In fact, he had wondered why he had reacted so adversely to it in the first place, so protective and secretive that even that fool had found it peculiar. It was a simple story, but he felt that even if he had again heard the swishing of a cloak and the small footsteps of Heng, he would have punched him in the face. Hard. Just for asking him.

Vachir wrapped the cloak around himself more tightly. The frigidity in the air was incredibly powerful; so moving in fact that he felt compelled to make all his administrative decisions from here, just waiting out the cold outside with a sweet mug of warm soup –

And he quickly attempted to suppress those memories.

**_Flashback _****0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

_"__I love you Daddy!" the small rhino screamed, anxiously burying himself into his Father's shoulders._

_"__I love you too son," Vachir rumbled, the baritone voices flowing out creamy and smooth. And he sat down with rhythm. The young rhino bounded about, ripping and screaming in the green grass field as he felt the the feminine figure next to him slide down gracefully. _

_"__He wants to be like his Daddy apparently," the female breathed out._

_"__I never woulda guessed," Vachir responded, smiling with fervor. "I mean, it's not like I'm a hero or whatever…"_

_The female rhino chucked briefly before taking in a deep breath and practically screaming at the young boy._

_"__Take care to keep the dust off our head! It gets you sick!"_

_The young rhino leaped playfully off his back, prancing around with absolutely no care in the world. _

_"__I brought some for you," the female again interrupted Vachir's train of thought. "It's your favorite…" she slowly unveiled a small mug of golden liquid, the delicious, roasted fragrance wafting slowly into Vachir's nose. _

_"__Not bad," the Commander remarked, as he carefully held the cup from her. "Not bad at all…"_

**_End of Flashback 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_**

The old rhino tilted his head upwards as he heard the usual opening of a flap and the light footsteps approach. Just the sound of those heels made him want to jump out of his skin, yet filled him with desire. He huffed as the slender pair of legs approached him, the bare midriff swaying gently as he felt the small hands close around his large, calloused head.

"Are you ready to begin?" the female breathed quietly into his ear.

Vachir turned his head downwards to again feel the usual feeling of desire, but instead restrained himself and again, forced himself to look at the aged frame lying beside him, the three figures again seeming happy. The oldest and tallest one playfully grinned, the smallest one was running around her Father's legs, and the female in the photo was smiling with a warmth Vachir wished he could have again…

"Why do you always do that when we do this?" the slender female announced, sitting on his large knee.

"To hurt myself," Vachir replied simply, before feeling his shoulders tense underneath her strong grasp as he was pushed down to the floor, the knees buckling underneath the sudden change of pace. He felt the female rhino mount him, the excited breaths heating his face. She moved her head downwards, nuzzling the crook of his neck gently as he felt more miserable than ever before.

"I promise you will enjoy this…" she slurred.

Vachir probably did, but the only thing he was determined to focus on was the grin that the female in the picture was sporting. He glanced at it forcefully, feeling the same uneasy feeling swell in his chest before squashing it and crushing the figure on top of him closer to his chest.

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"You're insane."

"You're mad, you are."

"Stupid psychopath, typical moron that you are…"

"We need Vachir to 'okay' this beforehand…"

"What will dear old mummy think of this?"

Heng didn't even bother to apologize as he felt his arm move by its own accord, instinctively connecting with Jin's narrow, oblong face. The thin figure stepped back a few paces from the force of the blow, huddling closer to the wide, broad shouldered frame of Manchu.

"That's enough from both of you!" Heng viciously yelled. "I don't care what Vachir thinks, I don't care if we need his stupid permission or not,"

"Heng – "

"Shut up! I don't care! It's practically no-risk! We sneak into Shifu's den and we sneak out, that's it!"

Heng was breathing rather rapidly now, the pulsating temples screaming for him to stop his berserk rage.

"That's the problem buddy," Manchu muttered, taking care to avoid angering Heng further. They were all outside of the tents past curfew, and the slightest noise could give them away. Granted, they were currently sprinting up the steps of the Jade Palace, so the fact that they could be discovered mattered little now since they had already agreed to this dubious plan. Heng's proposition and fears were justified, but not in the least bit worth risking their lives over.

"We can't do this," Manchu finished. "We'll get massacred. One: he's a kung fu master. Two: Vachir will kill us. Three: We'll get caught escaping. Four: Vachir will kill us. Five: It's illegal to break and enter into an established institution. Six: Va – "

"Shut up." Heng commanded. "You've seen the signs as well as me. Shifu's been close to Monkey. I'm not saying he provided him with it, I'm not saying he asked him as a plot, I'm not implying anything at all – "

"Then what exactly are you implying?" Jin interrupted, rubbing his sore cheekbone.

"It would be nice to get some info, that's all." Heng ended. "Think of it as an interview."

"Yeah," Jin scoffed. "With possibly one of the most powerful kung fu Masters of all time with some serious anger issues."

"Come on," Heng encouraged. "He took in the panda as the Dragon Warrior. What's his name… Pong?"

"Peng?"

"Ping?"

"Pung?"

"Whatever," Heng thought out loud. "I mean, if he could take in such a fat excuse for a warrior as the legendary warrior, then there's no telling what we could do. I mean come on… how tough could he be?"

Heng felt the two visibly deflate as they regarded him. He cursed underneath his breath. It was far too late for them to turn back now. Why had they spoken about their discomfort with this sooner? Why was it always at the end of every single operation that they had to voice their discontent?

"I guess," Jin and Manchu simultaneously wondered.

"Good," Heng attempted. "Now, stay close and stay low,"

"I bet you say that to all the girls," Jin retorted.

Heng smiled briefly before again sprinting up the steps, feeling that eternal feeling of curiosity being replaced with a more powerful emotion that he wished didn't exist.

_Father…_

_**A/N: I love subplots, just saying! **_

**_And the plot thickens! And wait, Heng's got a familial/relation to Master Monkey? What..._**

**_A lot of you have requested some analysis/breaking down of some of the finer elements in the story, such as ambiguous dialogue and open-ended... well, chapter endings! My only advice I can give you (without spoiling the story) is to pay close attention to the whole chapter... admittedly they're rather long, but almost every single line of dialogue, or line of text has some meaning to it. The trick is to not be daunted by the word count! I've always held that fiction is interesting when there's less said... and more implied. For some reason, people just _****_love_****_ to draw their own conclusions! But if you guys really want an outline of some sorts, or some analysis (not all, but some) just notify me and I'll do it..._**

**_Other than that, R/R and enjoy reading! Hopefully next week won't be as busy so I can get around to writing fics more quickly!_**

**_P.S: Special thanks to LJDAMZ (all Caps ftw)! Thanks for the reviews! And yeah, I do update a lot with authors' notes... I guess I'm absurdly scared of angry viewers, LOL!_**


	9. The Sons: Part I

"Enough! Enough!"

He was flat on his back. His chest wheezing from incredible discomfort, Po managed to arch his back upwards, but only felt even worse as his bruised ribs screamed in protest. Nevertheless, he was capable of briefly sitting upright and relaxed as his chest bent inwards underneath his huge shoulders. The head was tilted downwards with apathy, only lifted when a slender orange paw clasped the thick chin and elevated it upwards.

"You're pathetic at this," Tigress stated, smirking lightly as she released her grip and turned her back to the offended panda.

"I always was," Po answered, making sure to cup his chin again for absolutely no reason whatsoever. It was instinctual and reflexive, and he smiled as he kneaded the soft fur. "I never did get the hang of the Chaw-wow… I mean the Row-dow… maybe the gow-now – "

"Just call it the punch-kick," Tigress finished for him. "Even I can't remember the first few words."

Po was taken aback.

"You don't?"

"Indeed."

"The _impeccable_ Master Tigress can't remember something her Master taught her?"

"Yes, Po."

The panda bent down to pull his misplaced sandal over his bare foot. He stared at Tigress aimlessly, seeing her but not really _looking _at her. A swirl of betraying emotions swept over him briefly as he struggled to suppress them. Tigress' eyes were plastered with perceptive comprehension as the panda awkwardly swayed on the balls of his feet, clicking his heels together occasionally. Po also wanted to pretend to whistle, but deduced that Tigress already found his supposedly "nonchalant" body language to be nothing short of transparent. He smirked and glanced downwards at his newly covered foot.

"Really?"

"No, you moron."

Po moved quickly, circling Tigress' waist and hoisting her into the air. He crushed her as tightly as he could, trying desperately to hold in his laughter. He was satisfied to find Tigress snickering more deafeningly than ever before.

_Even louder than when the pig showed up at – _

"What…are…you trying… to do?!" Tigress breathed outwards between energetic giggles. "Are you insane?"

"I am not a moron!" Po exclaimed. "Say I'm not a moron!"

"No."

"Say it!"

"No."

"Say it or else I'll crush you with my massive forearms of doom!"

"I'm extremely scared."

"Tigress!"

"Po!"

The mocking tone only briefly made Po pout however, as the panda was dismayed to feel his arms quickly collapse against each other as the orange figure slid from his grasp outwards, leaping from his hold into the air. Tigress spun around in the air, coiling her body in a perfectly straight direction to gently land on the wooden mat below. The thud that was produced was elegant and soft; Po could not help stare hypnotically.

"Nice try, Dragon Warrior…" Tigress stealthily whispered. "You have much to learn."

Even as he tried to stop himself from rapidly connecting her statement with a long-hidden emotion squished in his mind, Po frowned as the memory overwhelmed him.

"Heh, you wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that," Po replied, fixating on the portrait of Shifu plastered to his right.

"He was always so grumpy."

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The clutter was not very distracting.

Indeed, the messy pile containing torn scrolls, bunched up red ribbons and a few smidges of pastry was mostly caused by the people residing _outside _of her room. She was quick to initially blame the panda for his repeated bouts of almost casual devastation as her once tidy room lay beaten and defenseless against that ball of white and black wrath. Well, wrath was not an adequate descriptor however as the double-overlay wood had not succumbed to his energetic movements and lazy strides; in fact, the sole thing that he _did _do was firmly and unerringly disorganize her room. It surprised her even more to feel how little she cared.

The green tail was facing limply on the ground, the normally bristly scales flattened against the hidden skin and tucked away behind a mess of scrolls. It was the same mess where her ovular head was currently resting on, occasionally causing a _crumple _or a _scrunch _as she tilted it forwards and backwards, moving rhythmically in the effort to force herself to think about his death. What bothered her even more, the emotions that crept upward at the thought of the graying, decrepit feathers and glazed over eyeballs were undeniably blank and hollow.

"Master Viper?"

The serpent initially wanted to dismiss the calling as some vague construct of her imagination, but later realized that even her own formidable mind could not fathom uttering such direct, harsh statements. Although Master Shifu was prone to emitting a bleak, cold aura of unforgiving pragmatism from time to time, more recently he had acquired a genuine (although very well-hidden) loathing that sharpened ears and toughened spirits. Always a man of unquestionable boldness, the deceivingly frail body of his hobbled into his room, white knotted fingers firmly clasped on the timeworn staff.

"Yes, Master Shifu?"

A misstep. She had started off well, genuinely mimicking a respectful tone but the name was spoken so blankly that even the namesake's eyebrows furrowed in subtle anger.

"You are currently becoming of no use to the Jade Palace," Shifu remarked with disgust as he prodded the stack of garbage stuffed underneath Viper's head. "It is unbecoming of a Master with your reputation. I advise that you immediately cease this prolonged grief-stricken solitude and help Po copy scrolls 2 and 317 to give to the Masters of the Onyx Palace."

The matter of copying itself, she judged, was extremely easy. Even though Po had struggled rotating the feather quill with his massive fingers stumbling over the thin center, Viper was confident that it would take her no longer than half a day at most. However, it was the abrupt change of expression that accompanied Shifu's derisive criticism; a few sentences before, he was biting away at her self-esteem, indirectly calling her unworthy of her title, and dismissing her justified pain. Then suddenly, he had swiftly introduced a task to her, a _menial _job at that. She hadn't been spared a second's moment to process what he had said to her nor even offer a half-rebellious rebuke of any kind; he had almost subconsciously expected full, compliant obedience.

"Of course Master," the serpent lashed out, keeping her words low and deliberately naïve.

"But before you walk out," she uttered, noting the Master's nonchalant disregard for her response before attempting to limp out of the wide doorway, "please inform as to how long you will keep up this act."

"An act?" Shifu responded quickly, turning about to face Viper squarely in the eyes. "What charade are you insinuating? That I do not feel grief over his death? That I wish something could have been done to keep Monkey from going into custody?"

She grimaced as she remembered the primate.

"No," she replied aptly, lifting her head and tail upwards, slithering towards him with a deadly efficiency. "I believe you wish you would have pulled it off better."

Complete silence.

"I'm afraid I do not understand," Shifu spoke, although rather slowly for his usual, brisk and defined manner.

"Let me simplify it for you," Viper mused, oscillating around him, the wood creaking into a harmonic although disjoined melody. "According to a friend of mine called Heng, There were approximately 10 catti's of opium pilfered from the Guard's confiscated storage. A few weeks ago, you had announced that the Jade Palace would be launching a new Drug-Seekers program, wherein we Masters donate our philosophical services to disadvantaged youth."

"Yes, and that received much attention and acclaim, if you are unable to remember."

"Indeed. And the fee for such an _invaluable _service was so meager, so small…"

"Just a full confiscation of all the… items that were rotting the youth's life."

Viper took a moment to choose her words carefully, deliberating on every single sound:

"Yes. We confiscated their items."

_Thwack._

She was completely unprepared for it. She felt herself collapse into the thin paper wall behind her, her head cracking against the heavy wood as the flexible tail coiled itself around her in a defensive position. She watched with pure shock as Shifu's oblong shape gravitated towards her, staff in hand and a menacing expression pasted on to his thick face.

"Are you implying," he spoke softly, taking care to punctuate his steps in time with his questions. "that I utilized the… items myself?"

"Of course not, oh _humble _and _principled _Master," she spat mockingly. "Not on yourself, no."

She was prepared this time. Shifu's long wooden staff had lunged forward with an incredible velocity; force enough to shatter the wood where Viper's head had been not moments ago, if she had not spun around and flipped on top of the mess of scrolls once again.

"You're a liar, Shifu," Viper stated, relishing at dropping the esteemed title from his name. "And you killed them both."

"Monkey is not dead quite yet," Shifu breathed, pulling his staff away from the now broken floor panel. "But he will be soon."

"You admitted it," Viper said, surprised. "I never thought you would."

"Admit?" Shifu laughed scathingly. "My dear girl, I admit that whatever they _took _turned out to be very bad indeed. At least the bird got off easy… didn't suffer that much did he?" He took time to monitor Viper's angered face and hurt boiling beneath it.

"Just a little splutter and _poof._"

With a feral roar, the serpent leaped to twist itself around Shifu's neck to firmly choke the furred neck. The staff was proving to be a major obstacle, as in her eager anger, she had bent around the small body as well as the wooden weapon; which was currently attempting to violently stretch her apart.

"YOU KILLED HIM!" she screamed. "YOU PRACTICALLY RAISED THEM AS YOUR OWN CHILDREN! AND YOU PLAN TO KILL HIM AS WELL!"

And suddenly, she felt her body convulse and become rigid as Shifu effortlessly pushed her off. She stared at the same hard features in awe; because even after 15 years of training and consistent, covert hatred, was still amazed by how quickly he had incapacitated her. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

Shifu poked the green head with his index finger, rotating it on the floor. With a sigh, he swung the wooden staff down next to her head to crack open the casing. The silver blade that peered out from behind the brown fragments was almost two-dimension; the edge was sharpened to a fine point. Shifu smiled slowly as he removed the rest of the casing, admiring its smooth, metallic feel and thin backing.

With a great heave, he brought it down on the serpent's neck. He frowned as the blood that gushed forward from the clean incision drenched the floor and moved the separated head a few inches to his left. Shifu sighed as the silver blade was now tainted with spurts of redness.

"Now you've gone and ruined my favorite blade," Shifu spoke with direct politeness.

"Hope you are happy."

And with a silent _swish_, the blade had returned to the center of his staff and the holder delicately strode through the wide doorway.

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_**A/N: A long wait, but here it is! Notice how the "Part I" is added in an aimed 3-part extra long chapter: hence the reduced length of this one. Hopefully, the next two parts will come out in 2 more weeks!**_

_**Some of you have written on how much you hate Master Shifu... the only thing I can give, without spoiling anything, is that try to understand where Shifu's coming from, and even try to get some ancient Chinese social structure under your belt as well. My intention is to make all characters in the fic flawed, but not without merit. Shifu's definitely not a nice guy, but don't be so quick to judge him. (Although from this last chapter, people might even more strongly disagree)**_

_**Other than that, enjoy reading, R/R and let the new episode of Kung Fu Panda: Legends of Awesomeness please arrive!**_

_**~KPeanut (my chosen fancy stage name)**_


	10. The Sons: Part II

"Shit."

He had lost again. Despite his laborious, heated hours spent toiling away underneath his stuffy cloth blanket studiously examining his copy of _Top Ten Tips to Win at Mah-Jong_, he had once again flared up in anger as he witnessed the uncontrollable laughter bursting forward from the diminutive bird seated in front of him. Zeng's angled yellow beaks snapped shut and opened repeatedly as his wobbling larynx bobbed wildly under the immense strain of continuing his clamorous mirth.

"Just give up Heng," Zeng practically shouted as he lifted the opaque brown glass in front of him to gently tip into his lower beak. "You've never been good at strategy." He took another prolonged sip. "Hey, Heng… Zeng! Our names rhyme!"

"I think," Heng muttered with a grin, pulling the dirty glass away from the protesting Zeng. "You've had one too many."

"No such thing," Zeng replied, desperately scouring the oak table for another glass. "Nothing like getting too much."

Heng agreed, but only reluctantly. The claim made sense in only particular scenarios, he reasoned. For instance, the bar that they had chosen to occupy was very much a paradise of hedonism and radical thinking. But it was well-past midnight, but just before dawn so that the moon's round luminescence was still draped over most of the Valley – although it was receding rather quickly. The normally vociferous and bustling life in the bar seemed to subconsciously match the light's timid regression. The crowd was thin; no more than a few isolated individuals plopped lazily on isolated chairs just steeping over the blunt edge of the actual bar itself, with the barman's face shining with eagerness to return home as he hurriedly dragged the thick white rag over dirty glasses and haphazardly threw them into aging shelves just above him.

"Everyone's trying to get away," Heng remarked, watching the bartender purposely ignore a rather dirty glass and promptly fling it into a bag beneath his waist. "Can't cope."

"Copesh with whatsh?" Zeng slurred, the wine clearly distorting his speech to nearly incomprehensible, guttural sounds. "It's all goodsh my friend… all good in Chinash today – "

"You're quite drunk my friend," Heng reproached, tiredly slapping away Zeng's persistent reach towards the central bottle.

"Always… hic… could hold… yoursh winesh better…"

Heng, although feeling a fleeting sense of pride at the closely incoherent compliment, was more concerned with Zeng's current state. True, his tipsy movements and garbled pronunciations could easily be mistaken as yet another one of his failed attempts to perform stand-up at the local club, but Shifu would know… he would sniff it out, seize upon Zeng's lack of sobriety immediately and possibly strangle that thin neck until the poor bird asphyxiated. _He's already gone through enough, _Heng ruminated. _What with Crane's passing and Monkey's incarceration_…

With a pronounced sniffle, Heng coughed as he heard the expected noise.

A door was opening. The young rhino shifted in his chair to better ascertain the small figure crouched in between the narrow doorway. The few inhabitants of the tavern grumbled with confused objections as the moon's light glided through the space, highlighting the crowd of stubble-covered faces, drooling mouths and cylindrical wine glasses.

"Shut shthe door…"

"Whoshe thish guy?"

"Unlessh your my wife…"

"Pleash, no more brightysh things…"

The small figure was not the least bit disconcerted. Heng grudgingly admitted a furtive admiration for the man as he discerned the subtle _squeaks _of Zeng idly rolling around in his chair. Master Shifu's stride from underneath the heavy wooden doors was confident and purposeful; Heng observed the light steps as he turned his whole body to face his query. Even though he was aware of the moon's splendor outlining Shifu's ovular frame to produce a long shadow, the dark patch that appeared seemed much longer and broader than the frame size would allow; the distinctive marking of a man who casted a much larger presence – a grand impression that was instinctively more terrifying than the often falsely restrained posture.

"Welcome," Heng called out as Shifu's quick gait propelled him dangerously close to Zeng's exposed head. Heng, recalling the gravity of the situation, covertly attempted to thrust Zeng off his chair.

"Pathetic," Shifu's smooth voice stated. He only took a brief moment to survey Heng's angered expression. "Not you. Zeng." Shifu's lips slightly arched. "Well, maybe you too."

"It's his first –" Heng tried.

"Silence Private," Shifu commanded. "I am well aware of Zeng's proclivity for… pleasuring himself."

Even though Heng knew the red panda was referring to the alcoholism, the implied innuendo was reactively fiery and destructive…even Heng felt some shame swell from the insult.

"It is as much his first time drinking as you are the Guard's first entry into this scum-invested _hovel_," Shifu emphasized with a slithery enunciation, disgusted expressions leaping forward from his bearded face as he grasped a chair and quickly moved it close to the table, taking care to cast dirty glances at the drunken bystanders and rotting night lamps, crimson flames collapsing from weak amounts of fuel.

"It's not as bad as it seems," Heng argued. "The Guard doesn't usually take to drinking kindly…" Heng grimaced as he noticed Shifu's polite expression. "… neither does the Jade Palace, correct?"

"No, it does not," Shifu agreed, pulling the bottle away Zeng's weak grasp. "Under normal circumstances." Zeng weakly flapped his wing around, clearly missing the cold sensation residing on his feathers. Shifu regarded him with contempt. "Perhaps pathetic is an understatement…"

"Or overstatement, depending on how you look at it," Heng supplied. Shifu languidly suppressed a smirk.

"The sticker tells jokes!" the red panda chortled.

Heng frowned at the insulting designation. _Sticker _was the brutal nickname the local villagers had often thrown over the Guard's members; the cloak's name implied the insertion of a stick into their behind, which would explain their usually straight-faced manner and strict moral code. He had once laughed about it, slammed the table with his fists in pure joy at the amusing term, but no longer felt the same rush of happiness.

He knew better. He knew _far _better. From the Emperor ceasing funding to the local accusations of drug abuse within the Guard, the formerly respected and toned force was very much an aging empire; rapidly being rendered obsolete by massive corporations boasting of formidable private security. The Guard was still _there_, but it seemed to occupy a rather insignificant vessel in the minds of men; for in their darkest dreams, the Guard was merely a reminder of the shadows.

"The shadows in the Valley are growing," Shifu read almost subliminally. Heng contorted his face into a sleek smirk before replying.

"The shadows…" he stopped, waiting for Shifu to finish as he always did in these situations. "Yes… they are."

"It's all numbers really…"

"Quite yes, numbers…"

Heng arched his thick eyebrows and glared at Shifu, possessed by a sudden desire.

"So if you decide to create the supply of opium…"

"Then indeed, I have to create the demand, correct?" Shifu responded.

Heng chortled.

"Not exactly," he whispered. "Demand's already there. You just have to get it out onto the market, and…"

"Watch people fall." Shifu replied inaudibly.

Heng relaxed back into his chair, shutting his eyelids into a profound, lingering sort of pain. This pain was a visceral hatred, a very undeniable fury that surged with no remorse. Its very path troubled the fine patience that struggled to resist in the barrel-shaped chest… filling the entire room, perhaps even Heng himself, with a dark and infectious foreboding. In his supercilious manner, he might have once thought to ask Shifu why such terrible events were of his doing. He wondered deeply why someone, especially someone in Shifu's manner, laying out the very traps of society that crushed most of people.

"You are aware you have five minutes more with me before Commander Vachir alerts the Guard to your absence." Shifu sneered.

"I'll take my chances," muttered Heng, the squeaking of Zeng's chair shuttering to a halt as the frail bird slipped off the wooden surface and collapsed on the floor, eyes glazed over and mouth blowing hot wisps of air.

_**A/N: Long, long, long wait time! But, my life has been sort of busy lately... so that's my excuse! Hopefully (and I say this a lot), things will get better? Nah, I kid. It will.**_

**_R/R and enjoy the reading!_**

**_(And pray Kung Fu Panda LOA will release an episode... or KFP 3 details be revealed?)_**


	11. The Samaritan

"Idiot," Shifu murmured as he slipped past the shadowy, cloaked figures raucously screeching beside him. The bar, although both discreet and approachable, plagued him with the problem of now rubbing shoulders with these degenerate scraps of filth. Amicable as they were, sporting their sleazy, bulbous faces and darkened eye bags made the Grandmaster vibrate with revulsion. It was not so much an ideological hatred, as it was a mutual disconnection. He knew they were far too indulgent, far too consumed in their tawdry affairs to partake in the act of observation – a "feat" Shifu thought he had not only abused once too often, but utilized to his advantage. Sharp as he as, they would always laugh.

He turned sharply as his feet found solid rock, the exposed toes crunching into the abrasive surface with gusto. Scrunching his face tightly, he momentarily stopped and balanced himself on his staff, gradually lifting his bruised foot up for examination while he surveyed around him. The night that had once provided comfort and belonging now darkened the area with a thick, impenetrable coldness; the bright, straw-colored houses that once brimmed with life and the voracious squeals of toddlers now appeared permanently cloaked and sheathed by a black fog. They flanked him on both sides, the sole hanging urns of fire perched on thimbles in front of Shifu now acting as his sole guide back to the Jade Palace. As he clutched fruitlessly at the swollen joints, Shifu realized how dark it was, how lonely the limbs were cluttering against one another, almost instinctively searching for warmth… a provision Shifu had long since discovered, he never quite had. Besides, the toes would have to brave on. _Long journey ahead, _Shifu mused.

With a brief squint, the Grandmaster forced himself forward into the path of the next urn. Its yellow flames flashed off his round face, further irritating him into an already unwelcome predisposition. The meeting with Commander Heng went nowhere near as well as he had envisioned it to be; but then again, he had never quite understood why he had agreed to meet the rusted Commander in such a precarious time in the first place.

And he stood perfectly still.

Perhaps it was his old age, but just outside the corner of his eye, lurking just behind the large yellow house to his left, a small figure had appeared. Not a usual shadow, but its appearance was far more spiked, almost gristly in appearance.

Shifu turned very slowly to face the figure. With a small flurry of fingers, he sleuthed it into his pockets, clasping the sharp metal with an inherently aggressive hold. The figure was moving forward.

And a sudden burst of speed.

"Don't."

His fingers were both trembling and pulsing. It was an unusual feeling, to be both terribly frightened and incredibly angry. The voice that had suddenly risen to meet his ears was so close that briefly Shifu surmised that he was truly growing too old. However, the small figure no longer was seeking refuge behind the yellow house. It had advanced so quickly that Shifu had only a moment to clasp the blade, except the fat fingers that had squelched them were now burning with a fiery sensation.

"Who are you?" Shifu breathed.

The cloaked figure giggled.

"Trite…" the figure squeezed the fingers harder. "…and stupid."

Shifu swung his left hand straight into the hooded top, only to feel immeasurable pain as the blackness vanished. Instead, he felt a relentless pressure on his back as the familiar breath again swished through his back, fur reacting revoltingly.

"Now stand still and do not turn back," the voice commanded. Shifu squirmed as he felt a cold, hurtful presence being pushed into his back. The coldness was nearly as unbearable as the danger that the presence likely had.

"Ke-Pa," Shifu whispered. "I thought as much."

"You don't usually think Shifu," the pig breathed. "As a matter of fact, you have shown a remarkable capability to not only prove yourself potent in the _vicarious acting _genre – " he leaned in closer, "but you have proven to become a valuable asset."

"Stop speaking in crude rhymes," Shifu retorted, shifting uncomfortably from the coldness that was now being suddenly infused by an ominous warmth that seemed to be almost pouring form his back. There was no pain, but he knew something was being damaged in the process. "

"Idiot," the pig answered, "Rhyming is when sounds combine to form similar harmony – remember that time in the Valley, Shifu? Harmony?" The grandmaster tightened with fury.

"Remember when people were off opium – off the indulgent hedonism that they carry around right now in general, almost… but it seems as if that time is no longer here. They like new things. And it's ok. Because… they want it. They ask for it. They desire it. It's theirs. Their happiness to satiate. Their lives to excite. Their minds to cultivate. Their souls to break."

Shifu gradually glimpsed downward to see a rapidly reddening circle stretched across his midsection.

"Why does the _rightness _of what I do bother so many individuals such as yourself?" the pig asked. "I'm just giving people what they want."

"You're killing them," Shifu spat softly.

"I'm tending to their needs."

"By ruthlessly destroying their minds."

"Providing supply for a common demand."

"A vendor of self-indulgent destruction."

A long pause.

"No," the pig replied staunchly. "Who are you to make judgments Shifu?"

The coldness was no longer bothering him… not even the reddening circle that was draining the pallor from his face even remotely scared him. He had no answer. That positively horrified him.

"Exactly," the pig ended. "You think you're apart from all this. A man outside the scummy, filthy part of society. The humble elitist looking down upon them all… or are you?"

Shifu was breathing much more quickly now.

"You think you're coming back from a poor meeting with Commander Heng?"

Much more rapidly now.

"You remember anything that happened?"

"Stop, please…"

"You think there's nothing that could have been done to you? Nothing that would make _someone _look vile… while the other looked… _doctorly?_"

"You've drugged me," Shifu broke out. "You've _been _drugging me."

"No…" the pig glistened. "I was giving you what you want."

An insinuation. A brief scuffle. Shifu towered over the trembling figure, now huddled beneath him in a fetal position. His raised fist wanted to proceed forward, but he felt hatred arise as he realized what was happening.

"I've never drugged you…" the pig cowered. "As I said, I'm only giving you what you want. And this is it, right?"

A powerful noise rippled through the air as knuckles collided with flesh.

"…yes…"

Rippling.

"You enjoy this…"

Rippling.

"The eternal demise of Master Shifu… seeker of control."

And the air rippled. And rippled. And rippled.

_000000000000000000000000000000000000_

**A/N:**

**Sorry for the lack of updates, but it's been a tremendously draining week: moving preparations, work, etc. I have to attend to my real-life sometime! Other than that, I also have plans to make chapters even more absorbing - not just better writing, more effective plot devices, etc. but doubling the chapter length. I figure that for 2-3 week wait times, I should at least give you all a nice 6000 word chapter. Again, I promise you all again that future updates will come sooner... **

**Other than that, this is only a sample of the full chapter, which I am currently revising! Please R/R and let me know what you all think of the new structure... I've made it more "arsty", almost liberal with syntax and structure because writing at its best creates a mood and envisions a world. This new format allows much more expressive thoughts... maybe! R/R!**

**What? Shifu being drugged? Wait the pig saying he didn't? Conflicting situations!? Tune in next time for the all-new, all-kewl, all- Whatever. Thanks for reading and R/R! (3rd time, I know)**

**~A Crt (Mah new kewl pseudonym)**


	12. A Birthday Gift

Breathing. Puffing. Gasping.

It was over. It was completely over. It was a moment past premonition, past revenge, past imagination... even as he kept thinking, he sucked in giant bursts of frosty air, chilling his lungs and permeating it with icy spikes. Everything that he had attempted to do was rapidly draining out of him. In a way, he was not exactly sure what had really just happened, but the only thing he could keep track of... indeed think of, was how much his heart was threatening to burst and spew forth a giant fountain of crimson -

_Blood. _He coughed harshly.

Heng found his steps quicken visibly. Leaving the bar was never a good idea, but the crispy news that had reached him was so urgent, so intrinsically painful that he felt an instinctive, visceral response. It propelled him. Even now, as he rushed across the black, soot-filled streets, badge hanging loosely and clothes strained from the dusty contortion of his flailing limbs, the constant drum beats were thudding loudly in his head. Thud... thud... thud... he wished he had chosen a different place to "party" on his birthday. Certainly, spending the special night at the bar with a drunken bird and a twisted Master was a terrible idea. It was only the urgency of the rumor, the sole malevolent gasp of lie, that brought him to quickly to his feet.

And he ran onwards.

By now he had leaped over a small fence and found himself at a clearing. The space that he so eagerly sought to infiltrate with his maniacal presence was being currently horded upon by mobs of anxious onlookers. The diverse citizens packed tightly around each other, forming an impentrable shield from prying eyes... or inquisitive peeks. The sound however, worried him more... the constant, scraping contortion of residual yelling, gasping, and questioning. With an effort, he shoved his right shoulder directly into the weakened portion of the crowd, just wedged between two of the smaller onlookers and roughly widening his shoulders to create space. He also managed to look down, by mistake, or more accurately, by chance.

She had not changed. The eternally disappointed expression was only lightly tinged with fear, and strong hands were curled inward lightly enough to signal annoyance, but also open enough to signify submission. Although her language was rigid and archaic, Heng had long since learned to obey the vague body movements that poured out her inner feelings and soliloquies, splurging forward in subtle nuances of flicking, shifting, and frowning.

The aged face of his Mother gleamed back at him.

Her mouth was open and slightly damp, but not injured to a vast extent. She remained vastly recognizable, with no blemishes other than a trace of crimson blood dancing its way down her lip and a putrid purple scar settling into the sagging skin of her neck. The compression was evident, but the reddish hue given implied a more cutting, grazing action than crushing. Breaths that usually found its way of reverberating with anger now lay silent, cold, and still... firmly entrenched in that disgusting cesspool of acid and food scrounging around inside her perfectly still midsection. None of her was moving, and none of his own body was either. He knew there were sounds behind him, drastic shifting in movements, perhaps questions posed at him, but he felt no inclination to address any of them.

He was so logical. He was indeed so impressive, so firmly objective and... and...

Why was he?

He knew he had to address some of the questions now, as a particularly aggressive one made its way to the back of his head.

"Looke here fella'," the gruffness pounded, "you think you and her might be related?"

Initially, the poor grammar and lack of proper enunciation confused Heng, who was more focused on trying to fill himself up with emotions.

"I was her son," the reply briskly walked out, "I was related to her for over 30 years."

"Oh Gods..."

"You mean he's..."

"Oh poor man..."

"Too much for one evening for a man to..."

The rest of the replies were predictable. Obviously their soothing, sycophantic attempts at persuading him to divulge his sentiments were not necessary. Besides, they could not possible tell him how empty he was, how alone he was... and how little he felt he cared.

**. . .**

The proper burial procedures had been made, and his previously shifty smile was now beginning to fade away. Not that the matter was any bit grievous to him, but he felt uneasy at finally understanding why... with such incredible deception, such incredible hatred that was issued to him on a daily basis, never once had he pondered the thought of killing the old hag. Neither had he mulled over using the word hag. Hag. _Hag_. It felt good to say it, it felt good to release an expletive powerful enough to describe her eternal annoyance, her never-ending stream of bitterness, and her overall despicable existence. He had ought to feel happy for her disappearance. He did. He knew he did. He knew he...

Jin was becoming rather annoying once again. To his deep dislike, he had taken to the promoting their casual friendship into the "reluctant assurances" phase. As Jin was neither reliable nor trustworthy (even excluding the opium pilfering), Heng knew it would be far wiser to invest some more time to bury himself with investigative work. He would rather drown himself in crushing responsibility than ponder over what happened. Thinking about the choked expression and bleeding mouth only made him swell with frustration... why was he finding it so difficult to react to the situation? He had desperately wanted to feel it... to feel the pain of suffering and the pain of tragic loss... yet the only thing that was currently bothering him was that he was hungry past supper time. Maybe that is the purpose of his anger. Directing his sorrow into a lack of food maybe was a lack of _her_. He scoffed at his own pseudo-psychology.

A sudden movement. Heng moved outside his rich tent to scurry outwards into another crowd perched atop a small green hill that used to be the old messaging grounds, although it hadn't been used in years. The furled up scroll was tightly bound, and Vachir's strong hands broke the seal within seconds, but the message refused to leave its tight container without a bit of aggressive coercion. Finally slipping the scroll outside of the tube, Vachir read out loud:

"Commander Heng. Consider last night's event a personal gift from the Jade Palace. From the Dragon Warrior and the Furious Five - "

Heng's hunger increased. He wondered vaguely what the chef would make for lunch.

" - we wish you a happy, belated birthday."

**0000000000000000000000000000000**

_**A/N: Sheesh! When life gets busy, you never seem to get the things you want to... Well, aside from my list of broken promises (yeah, I suck, I know), new chapter tomorrow! I would type more but... stupid busy! (that made no sense by the way)**_

_**And just so the readers can understand, this officially ends the "Flashback" section of the story! Remember a long time ago, in the Prologue, when Heng was outside the gates saying the Jade Palace guys had killed his Mother? Well, as promised, everything starts to tie in... and I know it's cliche, but now... THE REAL GAME BEGINS!**_

**_Just two quick notes:_**

**_1\. Thanks to many of you pointing out the lack of romance in it. Good advice! I'll keep that in mind while writing next chapters, and next stories!_**

**_2\. Yes, I am bumping the chapter length to 6000 words. This one is small because it serves as an introductory chapter of sorts, just finishing off the first Act in a 3 Act "novel"? Oh yeah, we still have a long way to go..._**

_**So R/R and enjoy!**_

_**~Frax (I don't remember my last cool pseudonym)**_


	13. The Fall

**Act II**

* * *

**T**he trees craned sideways, flapping and gasping gently whilst their leaves rattled impatiently, yearning for release into the hard, cold surface of floor... where both vermin and beneficiaries blossomed freely, mixing and procreating into an entirely new subset of species all together. Perhaps it was their vociferous energy or maybe an intense, passionate hedonism that was construed to be out of brevity rather than pleasure. In the end, everything moved on and on, outside of influence and outside of the realm of control. This particular type of freedom cost their consciousness, their very life... but they enjoyed a great deal of liberation nonetheless. In so far, Po had managed to only skim through the Jade Palace's plethora of shrubbery, firmly twisting and hacking away at slices of green bursts that threatened the integrity of the Palace. Yet they continued to grow, resilient yet quietly adamant in their dogged refusal to be contained, manipulated, or advised. This nature made the previously confident Dragon Warrior lose a bit of "puff" in his normally tall stride, quickly growing desperate as the overall green picture still remained just as unkempt as he had begun.

"They're still outside," Tigress announced, taking care to twist underneath the bright bursts of colorful bushes present in the Jade Palace Garden before standing still next to a highly relieved Po. "You don't think that - "

Po winced a bit as he accidentally clipped his paw, freeing two matted clumps of snow fur.

"I knew Heng," he responded, firmly but uneasily all the same. "I wasn't like... close to him - "

Tigress frowned slightly.

" - but we would never do that. _Kill _his own mother? No.. and that note has to be forged. I mean it has to be, I mean common', whoever low-life put our damn names on it - "

Po chose to finish off his sentence prematurely, resuming his cutting work with a slow, shaking nod.

"Do you know where Master Shifu is?" Tigress smiled.

"That has nothing to do with anything," Po refused.

"Viper's still missing, isn't she?"

"We've known it before, she probably just went to go get a tan or something at some seaboat - "

"Why are you so insistent on lying?"

Two more tangled clumps fell limply to the floor.

"I - " Po began, feeling months of repressed emotions threatening to shoot back up into his throat again, " - I think that everything is somehow - "

He paused for a moment, letting his paw relax and promptly heard the clatter of metal clippers on marble as the hacking scissors fell firmly to the floor. Tigress was restrained, almost acting out of shame instead of straightforwardness. Her usually bristled fur was bent over, and she no longer was able to dole out glares or even annoyed grimaces. There was simply... nothing.

_Nothing_.

She was slim of course, which was enjoyable for Po to observe. Without thinking, his mind suddenly splashed with rotten images, dirty conjurations of her figure and shape, taking into account the curvature, the form, the numerous artistic proclivities that embodied her body... it seemed almost sculpted, etched, as if the architect had intended to create his true _opus _and the end result was Tigress. Perfect.

His body moved to quell his passion.

Taking her swiftly by the hip, he stumbled, awkwardly planting his lips into her full red ones, taking in the texture and softness with delight before crushing her against his wide frame, ignoring the reciprocal enthusiasm and strong arms now coiled around his neck, focusing harder than he had ever done so in his life to take in the feeling. _That persistent emotion_. The poorest circumstances, the poorest situation, the poorest emotional dependencies nonwithstanding, Po only was able to continue exploring his cravings.

Until she leaned back.

Silent songbirds, almost as if on cue, began tritely uttering a manifestation of pure harmony. The pitches and tunes whistled and spread throughout the heavy air, lighting both kindred spirits and cooling... almost chilling, the fabric of their garbs. Po laughed as the songbirds moved to melodies, smirking at their hackneyed timing.

"Dragon Warrior - " she broke off.

"You used to be such a hardass," Po whined, relishing the distance between them now. "Such a badass warrior guy, or girl I mean, well, I never knew - "

"Knew what?" she asked, inquisitively smiling.

"How soft you were."

She leaned forward again. And he did too.

**. . .**

It was only a little bit of time, but this short span of duration was so important that the four Masters huddled together inside the cellar were fine with being cramped. They had endured punishments, broken bones, profuse bleeding, and even near-death experiences. Thus, to complain about a bit of a lack of space could be considered especially embarassing... so Po of course, was having trouble with this. He couldn't see half his torso because of the dismal lighting, and the only illumination that did function was currently wiggling madly back and forth in a permanently tumbling yellow stream. The fire was low and weak, but Tigress did not seem even remotely disappointed by this.

"They're still outside," Monkey clammered, sucking in breath as Po's massive backside compressed him even further.

"They have the wrong people," Tigress responded, still waiting for Po to adjust himself properly. "We would never do such a tragedy to an Elite Guard member. Certainly not an innocent."

"It's Ke-Pa," Mantis squealed. "We've been over this before. He's kidnapped Shifu, killed Heng's mother, and is now blaming the rap on us... or wait, what was his name? Some doctor shit..."

"It doesn't matter what lie he told the public," she instructed. "He might as well be a _chieh _for all we know. The only problem is taking Vachir's forces off our damn backs and on the pig's."

"Opium?"

Po felt his blurted interruption literally groan itself to silence.

"It's connected, certainly..." Tigress attempted, still wobbling uneasily from the swinging yellow fire positioned precariously over her head, but definitely near enough to transfer its aggressive heat onto the gentle fur.

"He's been stealing," Po adjusted, "remember that massive break-in a couple weeks ago? The _catti's_ of opium..."

"It's being distibuted..." Monkey judged.

Silence.

Despite his clearly uncomfortable expression, Monkey vividly felt the glares of three pairs of eyes bore into his skull, clouding his mind and breaking the fragile balance of emotion and reason. Overwhelming tears seized immediately, gushing forward and stinging his retinas painfully.

"I didn't know what happened to me - " he began, " - it was just there, and I somehow got it... _in _me."

The disgust in his voice was apparent, but the glares did not soften or even remotely sympathize, let alone pity. Indeed, they remained as direct and cruelly objective as ever.

"You're staying inside the Palace," Tigress answered. "It was more than enough effort to try and get you away from crowd when your screwed up mistakes came into view - "

"I swear I didn't do any - "

"Monkey. Enough."

"Was just there in my hands when I woke up - "

"Monkey - "

" - I was so scared of -"

"_Monkey_."

" - I couldn't... I would never - "

"ENOUGH!"

The yellow fire was oscillating gleefully, the infectious energy being roared from Tigress stimulating it into vigorous movement. Her chest was rising rapidly, but the face remained as distant and cold as ever... only Po saw through the hardened expression.

"You've been enough of a liability to us," Tigress bluntly stated, ignoring the childlike, subverted wailing flowing from the yellow primate. "You're finished." She broadened her eyes. "Done."

The air was becoming heavy once again. The sounds had been reduced to only the frantic swinging of the happy yellow fire, and the darkness that seemed as heavy as thick, black fog was chilling. It had to be only the fact that it was almost nighttime, but the mere ominous nature of the shift signaled something. Po had learned long ago about the cosmic flow of the universe, the many signals that came, and the many signs of pain and loss that were apparent to the naked eye. He had learned them, experienced them, and perhaps even envisioned them. Shifu's disappearance, Viper's absence, Monkey's addiction, Crane's death... everything was slowly compounding upon each other. A series of seemingly unrelated events, increasing in emotional draining, ever swirling into a black hole of oblivion and nothingness. And at the bottom... he did not try to think any more.

Monkey let out a faint mumbling noise before settling into a curled ball of fur. Tigress took this as an opportunity.

"Po..."

Po struggled at first to remain ignorant of Monkey's quivering form, but the attentiveness that he usually paid to the feline rapidly returned, as his head swiveled to meet her gaze.

"You have to make a statement," she finished. "Talk to Vachir personally. Make certain that he is able to understand that we are not the enemy."

Po sighed tiredly, "We've already tried that Ti,"

She frowned, perhaps at the abrupt usage of the nickname in a _public _place. It was not befitting her status, or so Po thought. He suppressed an urge to laugh internally at her pride issues before returning to his usual, blank expression.

" - gress."

She chuckled briefly.

"We can't ask anyone else," she responded. "As the Dragon Warrior, you have an esteemed reputation in the Valley... a following of sorts."

"That doesn't make me easy to listen to,"

"But it does give you the audience that we need. People flock to figures of hope."

"So that's what I am... a symbol?"

She moved closer to him. Well, to the other three Masters they would have detected nothing, but the panda was adept at perceiving her subtle body language... an arched shift forward, eyebrows scrunched, and lashes batting softly to acquire attention. It was subverted and coercive, but enormously powerful regardless.

"You need to be that Po," she replied. "Time for you to be the Dragon Warrior. Time for you to actually fulfill your destiny, to become what we all thought of you."

Po gulped and wished he was fifty feet away from his current, cramped existence.

"I...I... can try."

She smiled at him once more.

"That's all we need."

**. . .**

Po was walking outside on Tigress' request, and the task that was to be taken by him was as dangerous as it was unpredictable. Po, never quite known for his splendid oratory skills, rather feared that he would degrade into a jumbled mess of logical fallacies, inconsistent, stupid metaphors and slurred speech rather than making coherent thoughts. Speeches were notably not his finesse... among other things. Tigress however, had taken to recently offering physical affirmations of support, encouragement, and perhaps, affection. He had only recently experienced the first two, so he felt the third was a myth perpetuated by rumors rather than fact. Unless he had already experienced it, which further complicated the matter. The gentle nudges and reaffirming paw squeezing that came his way was uncharacteristic of the feline, but Po found himself enjoying the dynamic shift rather than fearing it. What truly irked him, maybe, just maybe in that cobbled, paranoia-filled mind... was the pig. Who, to add insult to injury, was apparently coming personally to the private conference between him and Vachir as a medical documentor... to examine Monkey's _affliction_. The mere inclusion of the rotten saboteur was revolting, and the reason almost viscerally embarrassing.

Slowly with gusto yet caution, he strode into the small tent, Monkey falling anxiously behind. Before however, a small paw caught him.

"We'll be right outside," Tigress advised him. "Be strong, Po."

"I'm not you," he lamented, taking care to spin Monkey from hurling right outside a heavily protected section of the Elite Guard's camp.

"Yes," she admitted. "You're better."

Inside the tent, the decorations were minimal.

Po took in his surroundings sharply, although he disguised his frantic glances underneath the sweeping motion of taking a large, twisting breath combined with rather ludicrous stretching habits. Vachir was, of course, in his infinite pursuit of dramatics, standing in the exact center of the room, his lower half shielded from view by a small polished wooden table, displaying the scarred, determined face of the old Commander. It also reflected the tent's white backing, so purely snow-like that Po briefly ran over the idea of trying to blend in to the tent, hard enough so he could avoid the confrontation all together. The notable person of interest was strangely absent.

"Where is he?" Po asked almost immediately, after setting Monkey down in a corner to silently sit still.

Vachir huffed expansively before taking his time to force a glass into his chapped lips. The orange liquid could be heard _swishing _and _sloshing _inside his rugged throat.

"He was ordered to remain outside, for safety reasons... " he paused, "although, he didn't seem too troubled by the death. He seemed almost... unaffected. Unattached. Like he was being forced to avenge his Mother."

Po felt the response go inside his head and quickly pass outside.

"Well," Vachir continued. "Let's cut the crap," he said with a flurry, the gruff baritone acquiring an even more rugged tone at the usage of the expletive.

"Explain this."

Vachir gently dropped a small white parchment with the Jade Palace seal on the side of the table closest to Po. The paper fluttered a bit as Po clasped it between his fingers. He initially wanted to open it, but found himself abruptly closing it back after beginning to unfurl it.

"Read it," Vachir demanded, with a wicked smile playing out, streched disgustingly across his features. "I think it's rather funny."

Po grimaced.

"Don't you think it's funny?" Vachir repeated. "Very poetic. Very smart."

Po remained silent.

"At first I thought, what a terrible mistake we're doing... hunting down the dumbass Dragon Warrior who could never write something as poetic as this. Then it occurred to us, that you aren't a dumbass. Maybe not a compete dumbass. You have less-dumbass friends. Maybe some part of you wanted to prove to everyone you aren't a dumbass."

Each swearing made a vein throb in Po's forehead, who was now becoming dangerously unreachable.

"We didn't send that," he chose to respond quietly.

"So you admit you wrote it, and had someone else send it for you?"

"No."

"Where's your proof?"

"You have our word."

"Bullshit."

"You have our past experience, you have our past records of saving the Valley from all kinds of - "

"Bullcrap."

Po still kept his head tilted downward, but revolved it slightly to the right.

"You know me."

Vachir and Po caught each other's gazes, both burning with anger from completely different sources.

"Oh, God... yes! I know you!" Vachir screamed at the top of his voice. "I know you! I know you! I know who the crap you are! Shit! All charges dropped!"

Po's frustration continued to grow, looking carefully at Vachir's own insolence and arrogant refusal to listen.

"Hear me out..."

"Shit I know you! I think that you're my own father!"

"Commander..."

"Didn't you screw my Mother as well?"

"Vachir - "

"But she's still alive, so that would disprove you getting any of my Mo - "

"SHUT UP!"

The wooden table quivered in fear, as the large white paw had come forcefully down in a clenched motion, sweat now beaded on his Po's forehead and his huge fingers now squeezing tight enough to dig into his own palm. The pain was so intense that he would have cried out, but the current humiliating accusations that were being thrown his way needed more rapt attentiveness. In fact, the sole crack that now ran down the middle of the previously pristine wooden table was noisy as the wood continued to suffer underneath the weighty pressure, but Vachir did not blink for even a second.

"I'm listening," Vachir mocked. "_Dragon Warrior_."

Po wiped the perspiration off his now moist forehead and blinked twice to make sure he was truly focusing on Vachir.

"Anyone can write a note," Po began.

"It had the Jade Palace seal," Vachir reasoned.

That was true. Po took a step back and loosened his fist, frowning slightly as the sharp, piercing pressure that was nearly embedded into his palm now released and the raw skin now began to pulse with painful tension. The letter that certainly embossed with the Jade Palace seal. Crushing the letter between his thumb and index finger, Po brought up to eye level and bent forward, scrutinizing the integrity of the seal. The moist white paste was still fresh, and the iconic bronze Dragon etched into it was undeniably the very same symbol sported by the Jade Palace. The dragon contained no deficiencies, and the seal contained no discriminating defects that would have been easily discerned with mere observation. The golden hue was perfectly on-point, the ovular shape was rounded to a hair's breadth, and the tiny embellishments littering the outside coating was perfectly representative of the Jade Palace's traditional ornamentations.

"It does," Po admitted. "It does."

"Oh yeah... it does." Vachir mocked.

"So why not arrest me now?" Po questioned.

Vachir seemed suddenly much older than he usually was, and the scars sagged visibly on his face as he brought his heaving hands down on the already battered wooden table. The gray calluses abused the frail crack, splitting the wooden table nearly in half.

"I can't." he released. "I can't do it right now... with all the - "

Po took another step back as Vachir punched forward, compulsively in frustration.

"With the opium issues, and this, and Master Monkey - " A small wail could be heard. "I just... can't keep up with all these things."

Po smiled consolingly.

"I want to arrest you," Vachir scathingly spat, wagging his thick finger towards Po's face. "I want to lock you up and throw you in jail right now." He sighed.

"But?" Po pushed forward.

"But the place's polarized," Vachir finished, but quickly frowning as Po began to portray a confused expression. "Divided dumbass," which helped Po, but still drew a smaller, but understanding frown. Vachir progressed:

"The whole Valley's gone to hell. Half of them got their pitchforks and want to skewer you and your four friends. The other half want to skewer the Guard for accusing such _noble _heroes."

Po opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off swiftly.

"I'm in between," Vachir said, reading Po's mind. "And I'm very changeable. Depending on my mood."

Po nodded and snuck a glance at Monkey, who had also apparently heard the usage of the phrase _four friends_. The pain that came from association was in two malevolent parts... one was the obvious, the loss of Crane to a massive, unexplained opium overdose, while the other was Viper.

_Viper._

He had been forcibly ignoring it, shoving it deep within his subconscious for as long as he could properly remember, but he could not possibly ignore it any longer. The flashing images of Viper before her disappearance were starting to flow throughout his head, and mixed smartly with the suffering of losing Crane. The two were linked by loss, but different types of loss... and the cause, the true motivation behind both disappearances still remained unknown. If Master Shifu was not lost as well, then he might have been more at ease. But with the tremendous pressure and humiliating suffering now casually, inexorably pounding within his skull, Po's mental state was degrading quickly. All at once, the strength and pride at being the Dragon Warrior was beginning to ebb away... almost like it was caught in a passing, frosty breeze, quickly catching it and proceeding to smoothly turn outwards into the black, starry night sky, into the darkness and out of the view of its victim.

"You either give me a solid reason now," Vachir demanded, breaking Po out of his mental soliloquy. "Or the only way you leave this tent is in handcuffs and restraints."

Po's heart began to beat faster. Vachir advanced a bit towards him, casually pushing the wooden table out of his way and methodically bringing his hands behind his back to grasp what Po knew to be wooden handcuffs. Unfortunately, only now had Po been able to notice the enormity of Vachir himself: a fat slab of meat shifted underneath Vachir's chest as he brought the handcuffs into view, tantalizingly closer to Po's shaking figure. True, he would be able to overpower Vachir in a combat scenario (and if not overpower, at least outfight), but what would happen then? Surely the skirmish would be greatly shortened by the inclusion of the the rest of the Furious Five, who would certainly aid Po's side. But after that, what would they ask him? How long did they have to argue before the soldiers stationed outside would sound off an alarm, hearing the noise and summoning waves of more soldiers? How long would it be until the entire Guard was flanking the Masters? They were combat capable, surely, but the Guard was no mere horde of bandits or thieves... they were an elite trained unit, capable and highly adaptable. Even if they managed to suppress twenty, thirty, perhaps even hundreds of Guard members, a thousand more reinforcements (better armed as well, considering Vachir's strategic brilliance) would take their places. It would not be long until a stray arrow would puncture Mantis to the floor, until a war hammer brutally connected with Po's chest, until a sword ran straight through Tigress and spilling forward a bright stream of red -

His head was pounding with anxiety now.

"Vachir," he advised, gently begging but also attempting to use the most objective tone Po could muster. "Let's spend some more time to talk about this..."

"I had one point," the Commander rebuked, opening the wooden handcuffs with a resounding _click_. "You failed to refute that one simple fact. There's nothing that you could make up right now that would convince me otherwise panda."

"Vachir - " Po began, but felt his space forcibly crowded as Vachir surrounded him, readying Monkey into a combat position, although this did not bother the grisly Commander in the slightest.

"No more excuses panda," he began, slowly shifting his sword out of its long never-used sheath.

"Vachir, wait!"

A sudden movement.

Po had truly expected to feel the rush of sharp air as he imagined a blade swinging close to him, visualizing the slight turn that his feet would have to employ to avoid the silver death, and then subtly call out for the rest of the Furious Five. However, Vachir remained motionless and still, standing in the exact center of the room as he had always done. The blade groaned longingly as it vibrated idly in his... _shaky _hands? The handcuffs clattered together, their brown extensions hanging loosely downwards.

"What the - " Vachir started, eyebrows contorting in confusion before his powerful, meaty legs propelled him past Po and out of the tent, haphazardly flapping the tent cover over. Po drew a quick glance at Monkey, who followed Vachir's motion and began to bound out of the small tent, traipsing on his knuckles and into the frigid weather of the outside. Small snow particles littered Po's breath as he too gradually walked to the outside of the tent and began to take great lungfuls of cold air, chilling his muscles and waking his mind. He nearly collapsed against the tent again when he saw what was outside.

The rest of the Furious Five was not there. The snow had parted in a perfect shape to reveal fresh footprints, but no other prints leading outside or inside. The Guard, at first stationed outside the surround area to better protect the private conference, now was randomly dashing about, nearly knocking Po over from the force of their capricious sprints. A small chubby guard quickly dove underneath Po's outstretched arm leaning on a degrading wooden pole. Flashes of blue electricity beamed the floor, appearing perhaps for a fraction of a second before ascending once again. The remaining Guards who were perhaps brave enough (or stupid enough) had their frost-covered heads tilted upwards, toiling with an enormous effort to ready their chunky crossbows and aim at the... sky?

Po looked upward.

At first, he saw only a heavy, thick and red fog. More observation made him understand that this fog was far too dense and detailed to be a construction of air. It was living skin. The living skin ornamented with razor-sharp scales, the skin that was twisting and shoveling its way around the massive beholder... and the skin that lead up to the overwhelming yellow underbelly, which was connected to an even greater torso. The two claws that jutted outwards were stained with blood, and the massive head that was breathing and roaring at the top of its presumably huge lungs. Two huge white hair strands created a mustache for the abomination.

The pig. The Dragon.

"Ke Pa." Po finished his own thoughts.

"PO!"

At once he forgot about the looming threat and forced his freezing head downwards. The summoning voice, a slightly feminine one, erupted from his left corner. In a flurry, Po sprinted across the white canvas, ignoring the frostbite that was surely spreading to his legs from his toes, hearing the idle _thump, thump, thump_ of snow forcibly being compressed. The particles were filling his mouth with painful moisture, the din of claws slashing violently against Elite Guard metal and the pitiful screams of perhaps a thousand members as they struggled to keep their flimsy green crossbows from splitting in half. An anarchy of sensations, a disordering of events, perhaps even true chaos... nothing could be sensed. Po only let the vague voice guide him, compelling him to stride farther and farther, a bit away from the molten pot of destruction and death and closer to a large gray boulder that had not been cleared away from the winter.

"PO!"

Ducking around the boulder, the panda saw his three queries. Monkey and Mantis were breathing erratically and were not able to move their limbs as far as he could tell, and the lone Tigress, fur frozen into stillness and now sporting a brand new white covering, was coughing violently.

"I'm here," Po remarked, almost stupidly fumbling around with her head to better give her air.

"I know," she replied, but forced his hands off her and leaned gently on the massive crevice lining the bottom half of the rock. "Ke-Pa is here."

"I know that," Po again foolishly tried to respond. "We have to do something."

Tigress, for the first time in her life, paused a little. Normally the promise of action was enough to jolt her out of anything, be it apathy, pain, or suffering. Now however, she waited a few moments before slowly nodding her head.

"We should have left Monkey home like I _said_," she retorted briskly.

"I brought him along because I thought he could do something good, yannno?"

Tigress chuckled. "And look what happened."

Po ignored the screaming for a second and focused on Tigress.

"You know why I came so fast right? Why I was sprinting towards this damn rock so fast?"

Po looked at her square in the eyes, eager to show something but also eager to hide it away from the others. It was fragile, but blossoming... perhaps in some later time.

"Yes," she smiled. "I do." The grin was wide and stretched, and despite the cold, the lips remained red and fulll... almost resistant. Resilient. Unconquerable.

"Let's go then," Tigress started. "Before it takes more lives." She looked squarely at Monkey. "Stay here."

Monkey squealed with anger.

"But I can help! I can try to fight! I can - "

"We don't know Ke-Pa's effect on you," she replied. "Considering your weakness for - "

Monkey began to sniffle, but Tigress left the sentence deliberately before turning to Po again.

"Your move Dragon Warrior." she demanded.

At once he was off. It only took a few moments perhaps to reach the battleground, and swiftly duck underneath a barrage of arrows as it flew painfully over him. The arrows moaned with success as they found their... targets. Po ignored this thought for now and helped an old rhino off his feet, clasping his blue face with his huge paws.

"Everyone get out of here! Evacuate! Evacuate!"

Po was sure no one would ignore Tigress' powerful roaring, except this old man, who was simply physically unable to stand up properly. Thinking quickly, he glimpsed a burning wooden supply cart next to the rhino. Silently batting the flames away with a few swipes of his paw, he pushed it towards the rhino and with an effort, threw the half-dead corpse on top of the cart. Po spun around and kicked it away, feeling the wood shatter but the energy travel through, pleased to see the old man and cart rolling off, away from the battle scene.

Mantis quickly leaped onto his shoulder. "Nice improvisation."

"Thanks," but Po had not given much thought to what Mantis had said.

Tigress was nearby, still ferociously glaring at the huge red dragon circling around the three warriors.

"Isn't that pleasant," came a booming voice, arising with a _crack _and a _whipple_. "All three warriors standing together. Or wait, what happened to the other 2? Or 3? 4?"

The huge, heaving laugh (more like a cry) that was erupting from the dragon was visibly shaking the ground.

"Po," Tigress remarked, still scanning the dragon's claws to make sure they stay close to his flexible underbelly. "Use the Hero's Chi."

Po however, had already begun the process. With a supreme mental effort, he was now focusing all his energy... memories, thoughts, feelings into his curled palm. He was deliberately rerouting all the force possible into his hand, which began to glow slowly with golden-blue light. The light grew more powerfully luminous, prompting a few anxious steps backwards from Tigress and Mantis. With a tremendous effort, he began to focus the energy backwards, bringing his paw back to observe the massive, majestic head looming over him.

"Remember this?" he screamed, making Ke-Pa's laugh grow even stronger.

"But do you remember this?"

He suddenly felt odd. His legs were now too cold. The snow had perhaps been a major barrier, but they were becoming too frozen too rapidly... he took the risk and swiftly bent downwards, observing his fur-clad legs shivering against the torrential wind. A small golden primate had his hands firmly clenched around the pants Po was... previously wearing.

"Ha, ha ha ha!" the primate bounded. "Always a killer at local villages!"

"What - "

The rest of his thought remained unfinished however, as a burning sensation swiftly engulfed him. It was not fire, but it was certainly heated and filled with energy... yet the particular pain never came. It was merely uncomfortable.

Small white particles floated outside of the golden primates mouth.

Po, quickly realizing the gravity of the situation, internally prayed that it was snow. Perhaps the universe had decided to punish him for such an impractical idealism, as the next sensation that came was crushing and painful. Red scales were embedded in his chest, and blood began to flow freely from the puncture sites. Next to him, two more crushing noises could be heard, along with their respective compatriots moaning in agony. Po chose to ignore this as well.

His body shivered violently for perhaps a few minutes, before the darkness arrived, freezing his mind and calming his heart. With a final huff, Po felt himself sink further and further into that black hole.

**. . .**

Just outside the source of the chaos, where the Dragon was still rampaging across the meeting area, two figures were still gleefully walking, trotting perhaps, across the moonlit streets of the Valley of Peace. The night was dark, but strangely serene, and the moon was splendid enough to cause the pathways of walking to become oddly bright and shining. Other than that, the rest of the two figures' surroundings was shielded by the same black, impenetrable fog. They were both wearing green cloaks, but the one on the right had a noticeable wider one, perhaps to fit his larger frame.

"Anything else?" the right one whispered.

"Nothing yet." the left one hushed back.

Both stopped walking immediately.

"Shifu," the right one urged. "that is not a satisfactory answer."

"Hmph," Shifu groaned. "Why should I care?"

"I do not know..." the figure admitted. "But come on! At least give me a full paragraph. Not this brief sentence.

"You are known as the pig," Shifu retorted. "There is no need for you - " and he touched the pig's chest. "To necessitate long-winded answers."

Shifu commenced walking again. The pig's fat frame struggled to keep up. He noticed more voices erupting as the Dragon was roaring once again.

"The Dragon attacks are getting more serious," the pig advised. "Too bad we can't help."

"Well we have duties too," Shifu said. "There is more to being us than just providing the opium. We have to actually control things with it!"

"Of course!"

Shifu mulled for a few moments before glancing back at the pig's round features.

"Your green cloak suits you," he complimented. "makes you look a bit more majestic than usual."

"I know," the pig snorted. "the snake skin is suiting me quite well. Which reminds me... what did you do to her head?"

Shifu laughed happily before settling for a short-winded chuckle.

"Disposed of it," he replied.

The pig narrowed his eyes. "And no one will figure out it's - "

"I assure you," Shifu consoled. "it's out of our heads."

"And probably out of her head, too." the pig replied.

Both chuckled briefly before walking forward again.

"You capturing me was very funny by the way," Shifu snickered. "Very amusing."

"Well, I needed a covert method to speak to you," the pig responded. "And I figured that kidnapping you would be silent enough."

"Hmph... you and your dramatics..."

The two figures began to walking just outside a curb, and turned sharply inside it. The alleyway was small enough to fit only two small individuals, so Shifu first took the time to graciously praise the pig's expert planning skills before gently walking inside the alleyway, the pig in tow. Their steps were soft and silent, carefully treading over heaps of spilled garbage and water puddles that were dancing across the small landscape. The vague booming of voices could be heard, but the two figures landed toe first, using the heel only when it was absolutely needed to necessitate the actual requirement. They came to a small clearing with a thin wooden staff, and engraved in blue Chinese script on the front:

_Master Oogway._

"Here it is," Shifu remarked before clasping the wooden staff. "Knew I left it somewhere."

"Now that you have your bloody staff," the pig annoyingly voiced. "Can we go back to to the Cave now?"

"Patience idiot," Shifu scorned.

"I'm not an idiot," the pig retorted. "What about the stuff I've done for you?"

Shifu sighed. "Fine. You're useful."

The pig grinned broadly, letting out his yellow chipped teeth in the process. He blew air out in heated frustration.

"I need another hit," he pleaded. "Have any more?"

Shifu rifled though his pockets briefly before arriving at the conclusion.

"Nothing, sorry," he said, disappointed to see the pig's featured sag a bit from the negative reply. "Hold a moment though..."

Shifu grasped the thin wooden staff, and bent his small but powerful hands inwards to bend the wood so a crack became apparent. One _crack_, another, another, and...

_Snap._

White powder poured from the inside of the staff, rushing forward. The pig rushed forward too, eager to be relieved, eager to finally be free. Shifu bent downwards and felt the same liberation swell in his heart.

* * *

**A/N**

**Well, here you go, as promised! I took an extra day only because I wanted to make it even better!**

**So, a couple of points:**

**1\. Hope the romance is more apparent now.**

**2\. I'm trying to play around with the format of the text. If anyone knows how to make the first letter of a text in a different size (like in books, when the first letter is large but the rest of the text is sort of normal), help me plz...**

**3\. Thanks for all the feedback! 18 reviews? Holy baloney! Not to mention followers and favs and... well you know.**

**Thanks for all the waiting for all this time! I really, really promise this time (for realz) to get more 6k chapters out soon...**

**Well other than that, R/R, review, enjoy, blah blah boring boring...**

**A big thanks to all my fans (and non-fans),**

**~Frax (yeah I'm gonna stick with this one for now)**

**P.S: Hopefully some of you are starting to get the essential theme of the story... Dark Desires. Hmmm... you might a bit of canon expertise for this...**


	14. A Glass (I)

**I**n a black cloud. Clouds were black. They could be white. Sometimes, depending on the perception, they could be puffy. Or razor sharp. Or fine. Or broad. Anything could be anything. Therefore, anything is nothing to anyone.

Bit by bit. A bit after the thunderous explosions, narrow branches of arrows flashing across in streamlined bursts of zooming, clashing, and collapsing... a bit after the frozen ground opened its porous mouth and eagerly devoured the hardy feet of the soldiers trampling across its oral cavity... metaphorically speaking at least. After all this, his eyes predictably resisted all neural impulses to expand and absorb brilliant, white light because they perhaps instinctively judged – they knew where he was, they knew there was seldom light and even more rarely something illustrious enough to brighten such a dark, terrible expanse of negative energy. He was in a place of myth and pernicious deception, of ordinary yet peculiar existence, and complete and utter myopia. However, this was a directly spiritual blindness that afflicted the heart with a zany, fracturing trivialization rather than a huge but physical defect. The place he was in weighed heavily on the soul, potent enough to elegantly lob him into an infinite abyss of misery and despair. And he kept falling. _Falling...falling...falling..._

As poetic as his mind would allow, Heng felt neither the visceral speculation of opening his eyes to witness the fruits of his overactive, dark imagination nor the need to attempt standing up. Or sitting up. Or crawling up. He thought it rather pathetic that he did not even possess the knowledge of his spatial orientation. He might as well be hanging upside down, nosediving into the repugnant snout of a fire-breathing dragon.

Annoyingly, his legs shoved him upwards.

So he was indeed lying down. Now, however, he was standing up. The mere notion of even visualizing the phrase "fire-breathing dragon" was alarming enough to necessitate a full range of motion, hence, why he had stood up. _Dragon_. There was no such word, no phrase, no conceivable thought that spawned more physical fear, more unique panic than the word _dragon_. It was an abominable birthing of the a word.

_Idiot. _

He walked a bit across the expanse, idly planting one pair of thick toes after another, moving aimlessly across the mountainous terrain, or smooth terrain, or whatever he believed it was. He was an _idiot_. He was over. His life was complete. Everything that buzzed around him reminded him of that. Aimlessly rocking back and forth, Heng waved his arms blindly in the heavy darkness, fingers pinching together in search of texture.

_Crick._

His fingers had brushed against a stony rock formation. He touched it twice more, absorbing the rugged surface to ascertain whether it was capable of being pushed. Stepping forward with his right leg, Heng put both hands over the flattest crevice he could find. He pushed his shoulders forward, feeling the pressure mount on his thick palms as the barrier resisted and began to rumble in disapproval. He strained more, leaning his body weight into the shoving movement to satisfyingly hear a small, but audible grinding noise as the large boulder began to gradually give way. He scrunched his tight features together for the final push.

_Scrunch._

Unexpectedly, the rock had darted backwards. This rash change in pace shocked his arms, which were unable to cope with the speedy decrease of resistance. The energy pushing Heng transferred him forward. His foot crunched with a nearby stone block as his center of gravity was suddenly lowered and he fell on the ridge of his face. A warming impression spattered his bruised back as fresh-born light assaulted his eyes.

"Damn..."

Heng pushed himself off the massive boulder he was currently laying on. Sitting upright, he sucked in three great lungfuls of air before blinking twice to acclimate his eyes. The overwhelming brightness was equalizing now, and wavy, artist-like impressions of cloudy fog and brown splotches emerged. Taking another moment, Heng gulped as the images sharpened, revealing the unforeseen horrors.

Chunks of broken wooden beams lay defeated across the frosty ground, the snow still clinging to their mushed edges. Bursts of black smoke occurred sporadically throughout the white-brown sea of desecrated corpses... _bodies._ Crumpled, mushed, and bent in odd, revolting manners, they lay relatively peacefully on the ground.

Heng bent down to his knees, screaming for a very long period, longer than the time frame his mind would allow him to remember.

**. . .**

The morning sun was on the rise. It rose so sharply that one might have initially confused it with a very large shooting star, gradually making its fiery way across the horizon, searing right through fluffy shoots of white clouds. It was different however, as it signified light and brightness rather than irrational wish-making and random desires. The brilliant yellow sphere traveling across the sky was patient and careful with its illuminating provisions, lighting up half the Valley, then more, then three-fourths, then more, then eventually the entire Valley would bask in warmth. For now however, it remained stubbornly attached to the east side, showing itself to a very small portion of the Valley while the rest remained in hopeful darkness.

Heng was on the brighter portion, walking across the pavement in a controlled fashion. He watched smoke raise itself lazily in the deep midst of the morning sky, peaking over the Jade Palace before twisting away into nothingness. He did not bother to inform his station. They would see the smoke, run across to the Jade Palace and they would take it in for themselves. It as a doomed enterprise to begin with. He was unable to talk as it is, and elucidating every single detail on how _it _happened... too much. He had to draw the line.

That was too much.

He came upon a small clearing where the buildings full of awakening citizens ceased exerting their noisy influence. There were two homes here, set at least 30 paces away from the heart of the Valley and bordered off by an immensely powerful gate, at least 20 feet in height. The homes themselves were decrepit and lathered with grease and residue from rain, the brown exterior drenched thoroughly enough to the point of resembling a fragile layer of shallow holes strung together by oakwood. Usually, houses would contain pointed roofs, but these two homes in particular sported cut off, flat ceilings with iron varnishing. They were... more akin to military bases rather than residences. A blue and silver dragon, smiling gently at Heng, embossed the front gate openings.

Heng walked close to the gate, gingerly feeling its broken exterior, running his fingers through the moist cracks before pressing the dragon's head firmly. He lowered his head to bump it softly, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

He stood up. Heng walked to the nearest gate opening and pushed open the hinged door, feeling its torrential weight scrape the grass surface. Striding through, he made his way to the house on his right. The porch was all together well maintained, but the elevation of the steps still made it difficult for Heng, who was forced to high jump the first two. Facing the tall door in front of him, he fumbled around in his breast pocket to fish out a small but strong bronze key, inserting it into the aged keyhole.

_Click._

He shoved the door forward. It granted him entry, swinging out his reach before colliding noisily with the back wall. Floating dust streams, their positions given away by thin beams of light shooting through two mosaic windows on the front wall, vibrated violently as Heng casually broke their chains. Standing at the very center of the one-roomed home, he took a great lungful of sordid, brown air.

He went directly to his right. The weakened floorboards, not built for the weight he currently was, caved in gently as Heng's massive feet created small depressions. Heng bent down near the edge of the wall, scanning a portrait laying idly on the ground.

He sat down on his knees. Heng knew that the ovular picture was light enough to be tossed with one of his gray fingers, but still grasped it with both of his thick palms before bringing it up to eye level. The color was faded, but the outlines of the two figures in the portrait were almost entirely unmistakable. The glass was cracked viciously down the middle, and true, some edges had been smudged and some portions of the outlines were absent, but the overall figures were still perfectly in shape... flawless...

Heng was the figure on the rightmost portion of the frame. Other than a few cosmetic differences, he was entirely the same rhino. The figure on his left was shorter and less robust in build, but still possessed a vague, fleeting beauty that was easily missed if Heng did not know her better. He rubbed his nails over the smaller, female Rhino, wishing deeply to encounter the same familiar sags in skin and aged eyes.

With a sudden inspiration, he observed the state of his right hand's knuckles, thick, swollen red skin stretched over dense bone.

He laughed silently, moisture threatening to break out of his eyes, before covering the portrait with his massive palms. He scoured the floor, looking for the broken glass.

**. . .**

"Heng!"

He was back into its mouth, dueling with its swollen, massive white teeth that was close to his neck...

"Wake up!"

He screamed in agony, feeling warm moisture seep from his foot. Crimson stains...

"Hey!"

It was gone, drenching his comrades in flames, spewing a hurricane of destruction beneath its massive tail. The floor broke underneath him...

_Slap._

"What the - "

Heng instinctively gripped the right side of his face, the gray skin swelling with blood. Jin rallied him violently, nudging his broken chest armor with his foot to make sure his target was completely indisposed. Heng found this system of waking him up rather annoying, as it slightly injured his hide as well as his confidence in his friend's mental state.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Heng paused his thoughts, trying to abruptly shake off the pain tingling in his cheeks. He ignored Jin, checking the floor again. There were two broken glass pieces he had so far discovered. They were the largest chunks and thus filled out the bottom portion of the frame, but considering the force at which he had punched it, the top half was almost certainly split into numerous pieces. His hide would protect him from the piercing, but it would certainly not aid him in finding the missing glass. Unfortunately, he had double-checked both homes twice, and had even uprooted the heavy gate closing in his maniacal quest. This yielded nothing of course, which led him to stupidly check the first house again. Deep inside him, he wanted to march over to the second home and recheck, but the last jaunt there had wrought terrible memories and negative emotions. If he was to at least, preserve a small portion of his sanity, avoiding the other house was key. He _had _to. Entering it... would be a grave mistake.

"Hey you stupid piece of - "

Heng swiveled, standing up too fast for Jin to react appropriately, grabbing the lanky Rhino by both shoulders to smash him into the back wall. The home, destabilized by the sudden weight change, rocked ominously over Heng's head.

"Why?" he asked Jin, forcing open the latter's helmet to gaze into those despicable brown eyes.

Jin gulped and murmured something, clearly unable to speak clearly from the pressure on his chest as Heng crushed himself against him.

"ANSWER ME!"

A spurt of blood. Heng had dove into his back strap for a small dagger, plunging it squarely into Jin's side.

"Answer..." he repeated insanely. "...me..."

"Heng..."

Jin was breathing erratically. Heng had little time to force another answer however, as any more pressure on either the wound or his frail chest would kill him instantly, and hence burn away any answers he could have gained from the lanky rhino. Heng viciously extracted the dagger from Jin's side, ignoring the blade's resistance as it scraped against bruised flesh reluctant to be cut again. He moved back from Jin, initially attempting to toss his light frame onto the ground. This was unnecessary however, as Jin's injured knees collapsed and his whole form buckled downwards. The bleeding ceased as he stared at Heng, skipping past confusion and paranoia into full-blown fear.

"Heng," he repeated, unsure of where to start. "What are you doing?"

"You wanna know something funny?" Heng asked, kneeling down to Jin's eye level. "I lied to Vachir."

"Wh – what..."

"Don't lie," Heng spat, shifting to clutch Jin's throat. "You know exactly what I mean."

"No I don't..."

_Whap._

Jin coiled on the floor, massaging his now battered rib cage.

"There weren't ten catti's of opium stolen from the warehouses," Heng stated, retaining his vice grasp on the tender throat. "There were _eleven._"

Jin whined, struggling to throw off the much more muscular hand clamped on his windpipe.

"So... so?"

Heng sniggered, reaching behind him to cup the small portrait close to his chest. He held up the broken glass bottom to Jin's eye, sliding it tantalizingly back and forth.

"Manchu told me," Heng confessed, grinning widely. "He told me."

Jin took exactly a second to understand.

"Wait," he pleaded, desperately attempting to shove Heng away from him. "Don't listen to those rumors..."

"Lies..." Heng softly whispered, pushing Jin's hands away. "I saw you freaking out in the Guard canteen. I was having dinner with Manchu." Heng stopped for a moment, carefully forcing his way into his thoughts. "And then I saw you."

"Saw me... doing what?"

"You were shaking. Holding a small white packet in your hands."

Heng smiled, although he fully knew he had told a partial lie. True, he had seen Jin in the dining mess the other day. True, he had been discussing rumors about Vachir with Manchu, and he had definitely seen Jin acting nervous and dispossessed of his usual spirit. And accordinly, he had noticed the small packet in Jin's hand that day. He had fibbed about the color however... at the distance he was sitting at, it was impossible to make out the physical qualities of the packet other than the fact that it was very compressed, flapping wildly, and that Jin held onto it with a firm obedience that could only result from something addictive.

"That's how you get off, eh?" Heng finished, watching Jin's expression darken with relish. "Take crap to make yourselves feel better. Blame the economy in the end..." Jin managed to disengage the portrait, tossing it to the side as the shards cracked once again.

He scoffed, much to the surprise of Heng, amazingly (and suddenly) gaining a supercilious confidence that was exuding. For a brief second, he halted bumping into Heng's hand.

"You're a fool Heng," Jin muttered, feeling strength arise, past his squeezed throat and into his mind. "I take it because I need it."

Heng guffawed, using both hands to force Jin down on the floor. Rapidly, the long, pointed features were taking on a purple tinge and the armor was clattering noisily. Heng felt slightly annoyed by this.

"You _need it_?" Heng mocked, shaking Jin vigorously. "Do you tell yourself that crap to make yourself sleep at night?"

"The Valley is dying," Jin admitted. "Bureaucrats and dirty politics. There's barely enough coin to go around... and I need to keep my mind happy."

"Happy? Idiot. What you want is pleasure."

"There might be different words for it, but we all want the same thing..."

Stunned, Heng loosened his grip on Jin's throat and fell sideways, lost in his thoughts. Jin took advantage of the slacked grip, screaming fiercely:

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?"

Heng struggled to speak, surprised that Jin was able to articulate with the puncture wound and sternum fracture.

"HOW DO YOU RICH BASTARDS KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT US?" Jin roared, clutching his sides in a futile attempt to stop the incessant red overflow. "HOW DO YOU KNOW HOW IT'S LIKE TO LIVE LIKE THE SCUM OF SOCIETY? YOU THINK WE WANT THIS? WE DON'T! WE FIGHT EVERY SECOND AND EVERY MOMENT TO MAKE SURE WE'RE STILL ALIVE... WHILE YOU - "

Jin lost momentum, spinning around idly.

" - while you rich garbage look down upon us... just for trying to be happy."

Heng went back to the broken shards of glass, twisting the opaque substance between his fingers, readying it for...

"You wait one second in our world... and you'll be snorting it before you know it."

...the plunge.

_Squelch._

The glass, finely tuned and sharpened by the two rhinos struggle, thrusted into Jin's throat. The squeezing force was enough to kill him, but the piercing noise was purely a bonus to Heng, who watched the glass gleefully as it tore through Jin's tough hide. The thin rhino sputtered for a while, both choking and losing blood simultaneously. Jin flailed his limbs around idiotically, before slackening and going limp.

Heng breathed several times in careful control before allowing himself to groan and erratically absorb air. The first few breaths, as Vachir taught him, would calm down his body and relive him of any lingering anxiety while the next could be allowed to ride out his panicked emotions. This breathing pattern, while unorthodox, was useful to him in every situation. Jin's struggle was no different, and the only thing he felt stab at his mind was the dust settling on top of his bare head, long since disposed of the helmet, filling his lungs with a dark, cold emptiness. He was breathing and alive, but somehow detected that some part of his soul was forever gone, lost to the shadows of night and flown away by that dragon. It had to be holding onto some aspect of his spirit, some dogma he had always overlooked. The dragon was probably far away, cossetting it punishingly with its massive red claws.

He turned back to the portrait frame. To his great dismay, it was cracked into much finer pieces and some were already out of eyesight. Added to this, the image of the female rhino was stained with crimson color and torn length-wise in half. Her form was still visible and easily distinguished, but Heng felt the image and associated memories float away from him more and more as the eventual downfall of her defeated expression was forever resonant inside his turbulent head.

He was unsure why he had not bothered to mention the Guard's massacre to Jin. He was unsure why his arrival had provoked such pent-up anger inside of him. He was unsure why Jin had even tried to locate him.

_Liar_, he scolded himself. He knew _exactly _why. And the reason...

_Don't think... don't think..._

_He was trying to help yo - _

_Stop._

He gyrated Jin's torso on its side, digging beneath the heavy metal armor for a small white packet. He brought the container of powder up to eye level, waving it back and forth. The motion was... soothing. Gently but assuredly, he tore the packet into quarters and let the granules fall noiselessly into his mouth.

_It's gone... the dragon's gone... the mountain's gone... the fire, the Dragon Warrior, my mother... they're all gone..._

Tears dripped from his eyes. Soon a stubby pair of fingers, distorted yet firm, grasped his shoulder lightly. The pig's lazy features came into view.

_All gone... all the fear... all the hate... all the pain..._

He smiled. He was free at last. He was unshackled. He was unchained. The pig smiled at him, fixated on his overwhelmed eyes.

Finally, he was free.

* * *

**A/N**

**Sorry about the one day delay! Some random life problems... it's a bit shorter than usual, but it's only the first part, as you may have cleverly deduced from the title :) And don't worry, the next part will be coming MUCH sooner. And yes, I say that a lot, but I am trying, right? :D (too many emoticons)**

**Hopefully you can get the political themes starting to materialize. Happiness vs. Pleasure, social inequality, hedonism, psychological fail-safes... blah blah, blah... I should stop talking.**

**Other than that, thanks for all the reviews! 23 and counting? It may not seem a big number to many advanced users (big fan btw), but for me? Fantastic! I should start reviewing you guys' stories! I always try to, but then I get nervous... but no more! I have to repay something...**

**Well, my usual boring R/R, review, enjoy the reading, yakkety yakkey yak yak...**

**~Frax**


	15. A Glass (II)

Just as the ropes were gradually loosening from the ripped crag of hide sheltered beneath his neck, Heng coughed twice. The first was to displace the dust collecting in the warm bowels of his throat, and the second was to better gain a more solid pathway for air to enter his lungs. The rope itself was not heavy enough to restrict air, but not light enough to be removed without a sharp edge. That act had been done already, at least (what Heng estimated) four seconds ago, as he jiggled his head back and forth. The rope was close to being completely undone, pooling disgustingly beneath his crouched head. The slumped spine was aching from continuous immobility, and painful spurts of moisture were boiling in his head. Heng rattled onto his back, legs still comically in their bent-at-the-knees place.

"The rope does that to you," the pig informed, pulling Heng into a sitting position. "It's quite thick."

"Not thick enough," Heng lied, rubbing the tender throat. "How long was I out?"

"Six hours, maybe more."

Heng sighed in frustration. Six hours was well past the normal calling time for Guard members to return to their respective barracks. His memory was still quite fuzzy, but the pig had undeniably left a brief, fleeting impression that bore a pervasive hole into his subconscious.

"Stand up," the pig commanded, offering more derision this time.

"Screw off," Heng retorted, flexing his back to re-engage his movement. "Leave me alone."

"I didn't do anything harmful to you," the pig rationalized, tapping the top of Heng's exposed head with cool confidence. "See? You're all intact."

"You took me here," Heng replied, "and now, you're going to use one of your mind games on me."

The pig scrunched his nose in anger, seeming as if he had heard the accusation multiple times before.

"What is it with your lot and _mind _games?" he asked Heng congenially, pulling him up into a standing position. Granted, Heng's lumbering form required the use of a long wooden staff to fully extend him into an erect posture, but his head was still bent low, diminishing the voracious power behind the muscles.

"I don't play mind games," the pig finished, forcibly bobbing Heng's head up with the tip of the staff. "I give people what they want."

Heng began breathing erratically, uncontrollably fidgeting within his tight constraints.

"IS THIS WHAT I WANT?"

Heng observed his surroundings. Unlike what he had expected from typical kidnapper motives, the neighboring structures were unquestionably bright and colorful. These were not the trite forms of dark, grimy walls and sparse light running through room, rather they were bright red beams propping up a white roof. Tinted windows let in shaped patterns of light, illuminating the brown wooden floor. Dragons, plentiful and voluptuous, were splattered across both the red pillars and the back walls.

"Is it?" the pig asked rather rhetorically.

"What are you doing to me?" Heng inquired, moving back to lean his back against a nearby wall, drooping his head down to stare at the rope shackled around his feet.

"Does this look like a torture chamber?"

Heng remained silent. The pig walked closer, plunging the tip of the staff into Heng's abdomen with rugged aggressiveness.

"I require an answer."

"No, it doesn't."

"Does this look like a prison cell?"

"No."

"Does this resemble an execution hall?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Heng blew hot wisps of air into the space in front of him, feeling anger quell down. He knew he had to maintain it, knew he had to conserve his energy to reignite the fire burning within, but found this increasingly difficult as the pig's logic, methodical yet friendly, bore into him.

"This, is my house," the pig admitted, smiling happily at the broad dragon tail hidden in the back wall. "I do my best to adorn it, but it only has one room, sadly."

"I don't understand," Heng struggled, stooping down before slumping down onto the floor in a dignified sitting position. "My head hurts."

"I am not trying to kill you," Heng suggested. "I am not even trying to remotely gain anything from you... rather, maybe I want your approval."

"You want me to die."

"Please," the pig begged, clearly irritated. "I captured you because I knew you would not listen without significant, heavy, physical restraints to make you comprehend my reasoning."

"Shut up."

"You call me a monster for giving people what they voluntarily want. I asked those people if they wanted opium. I ASKED them."

"You tempted them," Heng corrected, shaking his head in hypnotic, completely unfounded refusal.

"I ASKED them," Heng recalled, "I analyzed their situation. I knew they were in a terrible scenario and they needed help."

"So you turned them into junkies?" Heng asked, half-laughing with hysteria. "You're a loser."

"Conservative asshole," the pig bit back, "You're a fool for believing in what society tells you to do."

"And you're a liberal, spouting nonsense at me."

"Listen," the pig admonished, bending down to make eye contact. "I use common sense. That doesn't make me a liberal. I think of things as supply and demand. People want it, I give it. And... it's for a noble cause."

Heng attempted to interrupt, but the pig waved his hand and continued with gusto.

"It's a noble cause Heng, because I am making people happy. Who is society to tell us what is okay and what is wrong? Ethics... morals... I listen to logic and reason. And to me: those two are simply opinions. Opinions that I can disagree or agree with."

"Opinions," Heng coughed out, "that are held by a majority of people. Common ground."

"The majority does not ever decide what is wrong or right, if those concepts even exist. A PERSON does."

Heng found it rather difficult to combat this, instead shifting the focus to another point which he knew could not be debated.

"Opium affects the person. It has negative health effects."

"Changing a losing argument," the pig smiled, registering a look of defeat form Heng. "Cowardly."

Heng pressed on. "The negative health benefits mean people will violate self-preservation. They won't protect themselves. Society will die."

"The health damages could be argued in the other way," the pig began, "but even if you leave that, opium damages only the individual. Society isn't affected."

Heng gawked, unable to understand. "But – but – if one person does it, then more – "

"Lies," the pig interrupted. "People are smarter and much more efficient than before. Habits are passed on only when a person voluntarily chooses to do it, out of intelligence. Anything taken in moderation is okay. There have been numerous studies - "

"Stop..." Heng pleaded, hurting inside in places he never knew existed. "I can't..."

"The old like to hold onto what's old," the pig forced through, refusing to break eye contact. "But even they can't stop progress. That's what I'm doing... I'm making progress."

Heng coughed feebly, finally breaking off eye contact and sniffling as tears welled in his eyes.

"I admire your work ethic," the pig moved. "I admire your responsibility, dedication, leadership, and overall committed attitude to your work. You are a great person."

"Go away," Heng begged again, refusing to process any of the compliments. "Just leave me alone."

"I'm sorry you don't believe me Heng," the pig responded. "In fact... here."

Heng felt a sudden relaxing feeling overtake him. At first he feared that the white powder was coming back to haunt him, but instead there was something else replaced by it. The squeezing pressure encircled around his ankles vanished, and the tight feeling on his wrists were suddenly released. Sensation, fiery and urgent, returned anxiously to fill his swollen joints. Blood rushed with ferocity into the capillaries, forcing Heng to shake in visceral liveliness. Heng at once, by instinct stood up and leaped lightly over the pig's head. He flew at the dark door ten feet in front of him.

"Aren't you going to take me in?"

Heng stopped, turning around to see the pig dressing himself in the rope he had discarded.

"Come on then," the pig urged, bending his head down. "I explained my logic to you. Take me in."

Heng smiled for no reason whatsoever. He walked carefully to the pig, bending down as well to make eye contact with ironic arrogance.

"My mother is dead," Heng spoke rather glumly, but still fought to find genuine sadness buried within him.

The pig looked confused, fastening the rope tighter around his outstretched arms.

"Yes, I heard about that," the pig told. "I'm sorry."

Heng reached within his deep pocket found just inside his still unkempt armor to unsheathe a small sliver of broken glass. He drove it sharply forwards, feeling the initial resistance as it made contact with the pig's throat. Not relenting, Heng forced it in, watching moist blood seep out as the shard tore away the frail, sagging skin to penetrate the windpipe. Heng turned it sharply, in an almost circular fashion, feeling again the resistance as the pipe gave way. The pig spluttered with painful coughs, before slumping into a crouching form. He ceased moving.

"Thank you," Heng softly whispered, leaving the sharp embedded in the pig.

He dug underneath the pig's coat pockets, fiddling around with various odd items before finding the small packet. He gradually pulled it out, admired the white granules, before opening the packet and smelling the pungent fragrance. He picked a bunch of them out and opened his mouth.

* * *

**A/N**

**Yeah, I know... long wait times... If only I could pawn my life struggles away on some other person... **

**And yes, edible opium does exist, and probably was more popular in a pre-modern time setting.**

**Note: None of my work reflects my political views! I only create fiction to encourage and start provocative thought, not actually be a preachy type...**

**I REALLY hope that the next chapter comes out waaaaaay sooner :)**

**R/R, enjoy reading, blah blah shameless self-promotion blah blah :)**

**~Frax**

**P.S: Length? Um... haven't gotten that far yet! It's going to definitely be in excess of 150-200k words though... maybe more... MAYBE EVEN (cliffhanger)**


	16. The Philosophy

"Keep your head down…"

"Mmph!"

"Come on!"

He was breathing rather heavily, finding it immensely difficult to keep up with her rapid pace.

"Oh…"

"Ok push off!"

He quickly took three steps back. His massive body, already providing her significant discomfort as she fought to keep his belly from crushing her into the cupboards, was not to mention sluggish and lazy, which made the very act of kissing an immense pain. To his great disdain, Tigress was treating this rather like an extended training session.

"Is it possible for you, just once, to get your fat as- "

"Sorry!" he bellowed, arching his head back, nearly knocking into the gateway to the kitchen and very closely missing a tumble outwards. "I can't help it if…"

"What?" she inquired, brushing aside the brown spoons laying defeated under the pressure behind her, causing small dust storms to spring into existence and spread throughout the kitchen. "Is it your fault that the first part that makes contact with me is your belly?"

Uncontrollably, Po began to laugh in earnest. Tigress was not amused.

"WHAT'S SO FUNNY?!"

"It's just that…" Po remarked, wiping his eyes into his forearm fur, sporting a broad grin. "…you said _belly_."

Tigress managed to keep up her angered charade for approximately four seconds longer, before gradually dissolving into an ambiguous expression that Po did not understand. Regardless, she stepped closer to him, her brisk manner returning and the snappy posture regaining it's strength.

"Why does this have to be secretive?" she asked, nudging his head with a spoon. "I'm only doing it for you."

"Right, like you would tell anyone if I said yes," Po fired back, wincing as the wooden spoon again made contact with his eyebrow.

"I'm not nearly as introverted as everyone thinks I am," she pushed, throwing the wooden spoon perfectly back into its placeholder behind her. "Besides, if you would have started on me a couple years ago, I would have murdered you. But now…"

And she moved even closer to his chest, curling her lips into a slight smile. "…I wouldn't think twice about it."

Po seemed to understand this. "I just didn't feel it was the right time to tell people, yanno?"

She shot him a curious glare.

"As in," he continued, "with all the recent deaths and continuous confusion… it'd be like taking some sweets to a funeral."

She sighed with the deepest of reverberating annoyance. "Po, that comparison makes no sense. You _would _bring sweets to a funeral in order to cheer everyone up."

"Sorry if I used my stupid metaphor wrong," Po spat, turning away in defiance.

"You mean simile."

"Shut up and first of all," and before she could cut him off, he reclosed the gap between them and rested his head on hers. "I'll tell everyone. Eventually. When I want to."

She smirked a little.

"I know I can't physically force you to not tell anyone," Po demanded. "The Gods know you'd pummel me into the ground."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," she consoled him, prodding his cheek playfully as he again winced and struggled to keep himself from screaming how strong she was. "I do have over 20 years on you."

"Yeah…"

For a while, he would have liked to remain in that position, cheek being roughly bruised by her finger every few seconds or so, but instead signaled for them both to move to the dining table. Invisibly, perhaps sub-consciously, she agreed with him, making a similar shift to the long brown table. They chose chairs next to each other, both fixedly staring at a singular, shining but opaque bowl just a foot away from them. Po initially had made plans to enjoy himself with a couple of dumplings, but Tigress' carefully plotted ambush had derailed his cuisine plans – although he certainly did not complain. Regardless, now that he was out of her powerful grasp, he reached his arm outward and pulled the bowl closer to him, noting with joy that most of the white masses remained their original color and texture. He hurriedly popped one into his mouth, soaking in the moisture and level of comfort.

**A/N: Yes, I'm an evil person... but exams really do take chunks out of your life... the best thing after exams though? Holiday. Which means (for all you fans of mathematics) much, much, much more rapid updates. As the author said so for perhaps the billionth time.**

**Do not fear! This chapter is not completed! I was going to finish all 3000 words and then publish it later today, but felt obligated to at least give one scene or so, and make sure my "fanbase" knows I'm not dead. The rest of the words will roll in over the next 2 days (maybe even the rest of today), I promise you! Just keep checking back regularly.**

**Oh and in case anyone notices, I really am trying to improve character relationships. :)**

**As always, R/R and please forgive a humble writer.**

**UPDATE: HEY! YES I KNOW I'VE BEEN A TERRIBLE PERSON BUT... I only ask some more time to organize things in my life. Rest assured, I don't enjoy being this much of a delayer! Around 10 days would suffice. After that, you can expect a new chapter. Again, I apologize for the long wait times... if only this was my only priority/responsibility in life.**

**~Frax**


	17. A Juggernaut

Heng found himself in a presumably dangerous position, feeling neither the weight of gravity force his mind into action nor the sharp, crisp edge of glass jump start his pain receptors. The more he leaned against the broken glass, the more he felt a particular animosity for his lack of feeling.

The white powder, as it turned out, was immensely resourceful. Most of the more powerful stages of steady neurosis had already fallen upon him, although he could not fathom the level of drug-induced senselessness that was now guiding his movements. True to form, he resisted its effects for perhaps an hour, maybe even longer, but it took a much more lengthy amount of time to actually integrate into his feelings. _Wait_...

_What am I blabbering about?_

Struggling ever so lightly against the glass he had voluntarily embedded into his own abdomen, he stood erect before lazily (and rather harshly) grabbing the edge of the piece of broken glass and throwing it away. It skittered across the – red, moist floor – as it gradually spun to a halt. He watched it idly for a few more moments before seeing the small pig laying defeated beneath him. He observed the lifeless eyes, squinting as they – void of color, lay absolutely still, almost in a harmonious peace Heng had never experienced.

It was immensely powerful, a grudging admission he did not expect he would understand. In one (or three) quick snorts of that beautiful, aesthetically perfect, minuscules granules... it had all vanished. He thought of himself as incredibly trite, but it had swiped his entire soul clean of problems, almost pushed them all into a infinitesimal corner of his psyche and just put it there. It might as well lay there, dormant and unskilled, eternally locked into a chamber where he could happily focus himself off of.

_Compartmentalization_, he thought. _Assholes._

He could not deny the benefits, but neither could he quench a tiny part of him, frail and weak as it was – becoming increasingly vocal in its resistance. He stole a glance at the white packets still crushed in his massive hands. He thought about the act for a few moments.

With a bit of hesitation but altogether forwardness, he popped a few granules into his open mouth.

A brief second of confusion followed, before he found himself extraordinarily vacant once again.

_Excellent_.

Without a second's contemplation, Heng stepped gracefully over Ke-Pa's body and strode out through the door.

**. . .**

"I told you, get the hell out!"

"I'm sorry, I just needed to - "

"You _needed _to?"

"Please understand that I would never - "

"You stupid BIT - "

Vachir recoiled instinctively as the blow landed squarely on his jaw. He was much more expectant of a slap, but the punch arrived so brutally, so accurately that he felt a mixture of swelling pride, fear, and anger all boil over within the span of a few seconds post-contact.

"That's a first," he chuckled, smiling at the slender, aged rhino standing in front of him. She looked him straight in the eye, using her impressive height to further back him into a corner.

"What is?"

"A woman calling a man that word," Vachir continued, secretly afraid of further reprisal. "It's new."

"Vachir," she pressed on, cooling herself down before stepping back. Their living room, as spacious as it was, would not be able to withstand any more arguing. Even now, the wooden table to her right was chipped and laying on its side, while the various, antique paintings surrounding her were trembling from the constant moving.

"Please, let this work," Vachir fought back, although highly subdued. "I don't know what you're complaining about Biyu."

"Don't use my name Vachir," Biyu responded with a certain amount of disgust. "It means jasper. Jaspers are beautiful."

"What about the children," Vachir tried, moving closer to her, who remaining alarmingly still and complacent. "don't you want them to live with two parents rather than one?"

She laughed scorningly. "They will? What's the problem? I'm not urging a separation."

Vachir sighed immensely, moving back after a while. "You have been distant to me for nearly six weeks. No talking. No movement. No emotions... just..."

"The irony," she smiled sadly. "is so apparent."

Vachir stayed quiet, tilting his head uselessly to both sides to make sure no one was watching, although this was largely a stalling move so he could recuperate his arguments. He could tell Biyu could sense this.

"A single event," Vachir continued, "should never split us apart."

"Firstly," Biyu started, becoming noticeably brighter. "thank you for acknowledging the truth of the situation. I know you regret being with that – girl – whoever she was, at the time, but it was more the fact that - "

"My son saw the whole thing, yes," Vachir admitted. "Pity he wanted to tell me something on that horrible day."

Biyu waited silently, shutting her eyelids with peace as the resonance of Vachir's honesty was hitting her beautifully.

"I have not been a good wife to you," she called out.

"Neither have I been a good husband," Vachir fired back. "You certainly did not deserve that."

"That," she resumed her scorn, "was only _one _of many."

Vachir thought vaguely the consequences of protesting, but that was pointless.

"You are a logical commander," Biyu claimed. "You did your country a great service. You must not let that dragon attack scare you into emotional sentimentality."

"So many men lost..."

"Listen," she moved closer to him. "The election is only two weeks away. I can't let my personal life spiral out of control while I am in the clasps of my opposition. I don't believe in compartmentalization... and I need to keep everything in order. If I lose... then I would have wasted nearly 10 years of work."

"I always admired that about you," Vachir resumed. "Career-driven."

"I admire the same about you," Biyu vocalized.

Vachir laughed earnestly, while Biyu chuckled as well. "Then what are we fighting for?"

Biyu smiled. "I don't know. Maybe we're trying to make it go back to the way it was. I don't know. I'm not a smart person."

"Neither am I," Vachir replied. "So now what?"

"Separation is a solution," Biyu commented. "I don't think this is ever going to reverse time to the wild, passionate days of the past."

"That seems logical."

"Indeed. Why waste both our lives struggling to maintain something that we despise? For appearances? For our souls' sakes? For the children?"

"I have heard so much negative perceptions from people" Vachir unnecessarily rang in. "Two separated parents. Split custody. I don't want the children to grow up defunct. Not able to love. Not able to feel..."

"They won't," she reassured him, holding his arm close and stroking it softly. "Just because we are gone, doesn't mean they will. We can continue our life together. Just not the way people expect."

"Isn't that lying?"

"Who cares? Separate careers. Separate incomes. Separate lives. Joined by their custody of children."

Vachir regained a powerful moment of confusion. "I'm not sure what that means. We'll still be married, on paper."

"Yes, as far as legality goes," she remarked. "But we'll know the truth. I won't touch your life. You won't touch mine."

"Starting fresh... without starting fresh..."

She grinned, sitting down and patting the space next to her as the heavy rhino shuffled to his bottom and let the dense armor refract the morning sunlight just across her face.

"Your clothes look new," he complimented. "My doing?"

She chuckled. "Mine silly. Well, er, someone's... I got it as a present from Dr. F down in Infrastructure and Management."

"A useless guy in an equally useless department," Vachir beamed.

"Don't hate him..." Biyu reprimanded, leaning on his aged chest. "Rumor has it that he's going through treatment."

The sunlight was filtering through the tinted windows in such a way that was becoming incredibly warm. The refracting properties of the curved windows made no sense, but as Vachir had little to do with the choice of window, the light spun inside the golden glass for a while before bounding off Vachir, who, even though was at a 90 degree angle, still felt splashing heat gradually increase his comfort.

The kids would wake up soon. He sensed that Biyu was neglecting to think about this, much less attend to their infant daughter, but he was in no mood to help her either. She would be fine. He hoped.

"You have more balls than me," he whispered into Biyu's ear, causing her to chuckle again. "You talked me down from a dangerous ledge and put me in absolute safety. Thank you."

Vachir coughed a little, feeling his chest uneasily wheeze as Biyu ramped up his torso.

"What?" she inquired. "Sad this is going to be the last time we are so close?"

"No," he fired back. "I knew it was coming. Thanks for not being such a _strong _woman about it."

"I despise those people," she admitted. "Strength is not vocal. It is found inside. Just as the same way I care for your feelings and the children... and put that group's needs above my own... but that doesn't mean I will compromise me moving forward in life. I can do both."

"Thank you," Vachir replied, pleased at long last. "I should approach her again. Tell her I left my previous life amicably."

"You should," Biyu finished for him. "Whatever makes you happy. I'm glad to see you finally pursuing what you want."

"I will," Vachir reassured.

_A new chance._

It took him only a few more seconds to drift off into blank, dreamless rest.

**. . .**

Master Shifu stroked his long, flowing beard (it seemed an especially visible portion of his plumage these days) as he quickly hastened to move towards the sleeping mass. It was snoring deeply, so he doubted that the mass would be nearly adept enough to relay further retaliation. In fact, even when the mass was alive and conscious it bore little resistance.

The room, as usual, was in perpetual disarray. Strewn items included ink pens, scrolls that had long since been abused beyond usage, old paintings, and of course, that omnipresent yet despicable notion, noodles.

Shifu hopped on top of the large, bulbous mass, relishing the black and white fur moving rhythmically. A silent plunge later, and the mass moved no more. He expected the red moisture to come, but was struggling to notice that between a silent voice behind him.

"It ends today."

A slash of silver, more cutting noises, and both masses fell limply to the ground.

* * *

**A/N**

**Woo hoo! New chapter! Transitioning to a new style of writing here... more subtext and more mature writing... I get better with time, as do most writers!**

**Well I'm running out of things to say... hope you enjoy!**

**(P.S: and no more review-asking post-chapter, LOL)**

**And yes, I suck at meeting deadlines... hopefully I'll get better... but you have no reason to trust me just yet... I'm trying, I promise :) In any case, actions speak louder than words!**

**Here's to more rapidly arriving chapters!**

**MAJOR UPDATE COMING SOON! APOLOGIES FOR NOT UPDATING! CHECK BACK REGULARLY!**


	18. End of The Line

Hello all! I am sorry to say that I will be discontinuing this particular story, both because I updated very lazily and I lost track of the story (LOL!). However, I will be starting a new story (that's hopefully better) in terms of plot, characters, among others. Thanks to all my fans for following it, as confusing as it was, but don't get sad! The new one is probably coming sometime this week... until then, farewell! The new story might be a continuation of this one, or a new thing all together... but definitely new things are coming!

-Frax

P.S: I know this note seems impromptu, but it's only because I am busily working on content... heee hee...


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